FOLK-LORE     AND     LEGENDS 
NORTH  AMERICAN  INDIAN 


UNIFORM     WITH     THIS     VOLUME. 
"  These  dainty  little  books.  "—STANDARD. 

FOLK-LORE    AND    LEGENDS. 

FIRST  SERIES. 

1.  GERMAN. 

2.  ORIENTAL. 

3.  SCOTLAND. 

4.  IRELAND. 

SECOND  SERIES. 

1.  ENGLAND. 

2.  SCANDINAVIAN. 

3.  RUSSIAN. 

4.  NORTH  AMERICAN  INDIAN. 

"  They  transport  us  into  a  romantic  world. "—  TIMES. 


FO  LK-LO  R  E 

ii 

AND 

LEGENDS 


NORTH  AMERICAN  INDIAN 


J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 

PHILADELPHIA 

1891 


PREFATORY   NOTE. 

IT  might  have  been  expected  that  the  Indians  of 
North  America  would  have  many  Folklore  tales 
to  tell,  and  in  this  volume  I  have  endeavoured  to 
present  such  of  them  as  seemed  to  me  to  best 
illustrate  the  primitive  character  and  beliefs  of 
the  people.  The  belief,  and  the  language  in 
which  it  is  clothed,  are  often  very  beautiful. 
Fantastic  imagination,  magnanimity,  moral  senti 
ment,  tender  feeling,  and  humour  are  discovered 
in  a  degree  which  may  astonish  many  who  have 
been  apt  to  imagine  that  advanced  civilisation 
has  much  to  do  with  the  possession  of  such 
qualities.  I  .know  of  nothing  that  throws  so 
much  light  upon  Indian  character  as  their 
Folk-tales. 

M373525 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Moowis,          ....  ] 

The  Girl  who  Married  the  Pine-tree,  9 

A  Legend  of  Manabozho,        .  ]  1 

Pauppukkeewis,          ...  15 

The  Discovery  of  the  Upper  World,  .              .         33 

The  Boy  who  Snared  the  Sun,            .  37 

The  Maid  in  the  Box,             .  41 

The  Spirits  and  the  Lovers,  .  .              .         45 

The  Wonderful  Rod,              ...  54 
The  Funeral  Fire,      .....         56 

The  Legend  of  0-na-wut-a-qut-o,       .  63 

Manabozho  in  the  Fish's  Stomach,     .  .                       69 

The  Sun  and  the  Moon,          .              .  72 

The  Snail  and  the  Beaver,      .              .  .              .75 

The  Strange  Guests,                .              .  .              .79 

Manabozho  and  his  Toe,         .             .  .              .         88 

The  Girl  who  Became  a  Bird,             .  .         90 

The  Undying  Head,  .              .  *  .                       92 

The  Old  Chippeway,               .              .  .113 

Mukumik!  Mukumik!  Mukumik  !  .  .116 

The  Swing  by  the  Lake,         .  119 


Vlii  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

The  Fire  Plume,        .              .             .  .  .123 

The  Journey  to  the  Island  of  Souls,  .  .  .129 

Machinitou,  the  Evil  Spirit,                .  .  .134 

The  Woman  of  Stone,             .             .  .  .144 

The  Maiden  who  Loved  a  Fish,          .  .  .147 

The  Lone  Lightning,                .              .  .  .151 

Aggo-dah-gauda,         .              .             .  .  .154 

Piqua,              ...  158 

The  Evil  Maker,        .             .              .  .  .177 

Manabozho  the  Wolf,             .             .  .  .179 

The  Man-fish,  .        186 


MOOWIS. 

IN  a  large  village  there  lived  a  noted  belle,  or  Ma- 
mon-da-go-Kwa,  who  was  the  admiration  of  all  the 
young  hunters  and  warriors.  She  was  particularly 
admired  by  a  young  man  who,  from  his  good  figure 
and  the  care  he  took  in  his  dress,  was  called  the 
Beau-Man,  or  Ma-mon-da-gin-in-e.  This  young  man 
had  a  friend  and  companion  whom  he  made  his 
confidant. 

"Come,"  said  he  one  day,  in  a  sportive  mood, 
"let  us  go  a-courting  to  her  who  is  so  handsome, 
perhaps  she  may  fancy  one  of  us." 

She  would,  however,  listen  to  neither  of  them; 
and  when  the  handsome  young  man  rallied  her  on 
the  coldness  of  her  air,  and  made  an  effort  to  over 
come  her  indifference,  she  repulsed  him  with  the 
greatest  contempt,  and  the  young  man  retired  con 
fused  and  abashed.  His  sense  of  pride  was  deeply 
wounded,  and  he  was  the  more  piqued  because  he 
had  been  thus  treated  in  the  presence  of  others, 
and  this  affair  had  been  noised  about  in  the  village, 
and  became  the  talk  of  every  lodge  circle.  He  was, 


2  INDIAN   FOLKLORE. 

besides,  a  very  sensitive  man,  and  the  incident  so 
preyed  upon  him  that  he  became  moody  and  at 
last  took  to  his  bed.  For  days  he  would  lie  without 
uttering  a  word,  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  vacancy? 
and  taking  little  or  no  food.  From  this  state  no 
efforts  could  rouse  him.  He  felt  abashed  and  dis 
honoured  even  in  the  presence  of  his  own  relatives, 
and  no  persuasions  could  induce  him  to  rise,  so  that 
when  the  family  prepared  to  take  down  the  lodge 
to  remove  lie  still  kept  his  bed,  and  they  were  com 
pelled  to  lift  it  from  above  his  head  and  leave  him 
upon  his  skin  couch.  It  was  a  time  of  general  re 
moval  and  breaking  up  of  the  camp,  for  it  was  only 
a  winter  hunting-camp,  and  as  the  season  of  the  hunt 
was  now  over,  and  spring  began  to  appear,  his  friends 
all  moved  off  as  by  one  impulse  to  the  place  of  their 
summer  village,  and  in  a  short  time  all  were  gone, 
and  he  was  left  alone.  The  last  person  to  leave  him 
was  his  boon  companion  and  cousin,  who  had  been, 
like  him,  an  admirer  of  the  forest  belle.  The  hunter 
disregarded  even  his  voice,  and  as  soon  as  his  steps 
died  away  on  the  creaking  snow  the  stillness  and 
solitude  of  the  wilderness  reigned  around. 

As  soon  as  all  were  gone,  and  he  could  no  longer, 
by  listening,  hear  the  remotest  sound  of  the  depart 
ing  camp,  the  Beau-Man  arose. 

Now  this  young  man  had  for  a  friend  a  powerful 
guardian  spirit  or  personal  manito,  and  he  resolved, 
with  this  spirit's  aid,  to  use  his  utmost  power  to 
punish  and  humble  the  girl,  for  she  was  noted  in 
her  tribe  for  her  coquetry,  and  had  treated  many 


MOOWIS.  3 

young  men,  who  were  every  way  her  equals,  as  she 
had  treated  this  lover.  He  resolved  on  a  singular 
stratagem  by  way  of  revenge. 

He  walked  over  the  deserted  camp  and  gathered 
up  all  the  cast-off  bits  of  soiled  cloth,  clippings 
of  finery,  and  old  clothing  and  ornaments,  which 
had  either  been  left  there  as  not  worth  carrying 
away,  or  forgotten.  These  he  carefully  picked  out  of 
the  snow,  into  which  some  of  them  had  been  trodden, 
and  collected  in  one  place.  These  gaudy  arid  soiled 
stuffs  he  restored  to  their  original  beauty,  and  made 
of  them  a  coat  and  leggings,  which  he  trimmed  with 
beads,  and  finished  and  decorated  after  the  best  fashion 
of  his  tribe.  He  then  made  a  pair  of  moccasins  and 
garnished  them  with  beads,  a  bow  and  arrows, 
and  a  frontlet  and  feathers  for  the  head.  Having 
done  this  he  searched  about  for  cast-out  bones  of 
animals,  pieces  of  skin,  clippings  of  dried  meat,  and 
even  dirt.  Having  cemented  all  this  together  he 
filled  the  clothes  with  it,  pressed  the  mass  firmly 
in,  and  fashioned  it,  externally,  in  all  respects  like 
a  tall  and  well-shaped  man.  He  put  a  bow  and 
arrows  in  its  hands,  and  the  frontlet  on  its  head. 
Having  finished  it  he  brought  it  to  life,  and  the  image 
stood  forth  in  the  most  favoured  lineaments  of  his 
fellows.  Such  was  the  origin  of  Moowis,  or  the 
Dirt-and-Rag  Man. 

"Follow  me,"  said  the  Beau-Man,  "and  I  will 
direct  you  how  you  shall  act." 

Moowis  was,  indeed,  a  very  sightly  person,  and 
as  the  Beau-Man  led  him  into  the  new  encampment 


4  INDIAN   FOLKLORE. 

where  the  girl  dwelt,  the  many  colours  of  his  clothes, 
the  profusion  of  his  ornaments,  his  manly  deport 
ment,  his  animated  countenance,  drew  all  eyes  to  him. 
He  was  hospitably  received,  both  old  and  young 
showing  him  great  attention.  The  chief  invited  him 
to  his  lodge,  and  he  was  there  treated  to  the  moose's 
hump  and  the  finest  venison. 

No  one  was  better  pleased  with  the  handsome 
stranger  than  Ma-mon-da-go-Kwa.  She  fell  in  love 
with  him  at  first  sight,  and  he  was  an  invited  guest 
at  the  lodge  of  her  mother  the  very  first  evening  of 
his  arrival.  The  Beau-Man  went  with  him,  for  it  was 
under  his  patronage  that  he  had  been  introduced, 
and,  in  truth,  he  had  another  motive  in  accompanying 
him,  for  he  had  not  yet  wholly  subdued  his  feelings 
of  admiration  for  the  object  against  whom  he  had, 
nevertheless,  exerted  all  his  necromantic  power,  and 
he  held  himself  ready  to  take  advantage  of  any 
favourable  turn  which  he  secretly  hoped  the  visit 
might  take  in  relation  to  himself.  No  such  oppor 
tunity,  however,  arose.  Moowis  attracted  the  chief 
attention,  every  eye  and  heart  was  alert  to  entertain 
him.  In  this  effort  on  the  part  of  his  entertainers 
they  had  well-nigh  brought  about  his  destruction 
by  dissolving  him  into  his  original  elements  of  rags, 
snow,  and  dirt,  for  he  was  assigned  the  most  prominent 
place  near  the  tire,  where  he  was  exposed  to  a  heat 
that  he  could  by  no  means  endure.  However,  he 
warded  this  calamity  off  by  placing  a  boy  between 
him  and  the  fire ;  he  shifted  his  position  frequently, 
and  evaded,  by  dexterous  manoeuvres  and  timely 


MOOWIS.  5 

remarks,  the  pressing  invitation  of  his  host  to  sit 
and  enjoy  the  warmth.  He  so  managed  these 
excuses  as  not  only  to  conceal  his  dread  of  immediate 
dissolution,  but  to  secure  the  further  approbation  of 
the  fair  forest  girl,  who  was  filled  with  admiration 
of  one  who  had  so  brave  a  spirit  to  endure  the 
paralysing  effects  of  cold. 

The  visit  proved  that  the  rejected  lover  had  well 
calculated  the  effects  of  his  plan.  He  withdrew 
from  the  lodge,  and  Moowis  triumphed.  Before  the 
Beau-Man  left  he  saw  him  cross  the  lodge  to  the 
coveted  abivos,  or  bridegroom's  seat.  The  dart 
which  Ma-mon-da-go-Kwa  had  so  often  delighted  in 
sending  to  the  hearts  of  her  admirers  she  was  at 
length  fated  to  receive.  She  had  married  an  image. 

As  the  morning  began  to  break  the  stranger  arose, 
adjusted  his  warrior's  plumes,  and  took  his  forest 
weapons  to  depart. 

"I  must  go,"  said  he,  "  for  I  have  important  work 
to  do,  and  there  are  many  hills  and  streams  between 
me  and  the  object  of  my  journey." 

11 1  will  go  with  you,"  said  Ma-mon-da-go-Kwa. 

"The  journey  is  too  long,"  replied  her  husband,  "and 
you  are  ill  able  to  encounter  the  perils  of  the  way." 

"It  is  not  so  long  but  that  I  will  go,"  answered 
his  wife,  "  and  there  are  no  dangers  I  will  not  share 
with  you." 

Moowis  returned  to  the  lodge  of  his  master,  and 
told  him  what  had  occurred.  For  a  moment  pity 
took  possession  of  the  young  man's  heart.  He 
regretted  that  she  whom  he  so  loved  should  thus 


6  INDIAN   FOLKLORE. 

have  thrown  herself  away  upon  an  image,  a  shadow, 
when  she  might  have  been  the  mistress  of  the  best 
lodge  in  the  camp. 

"It  is  her  own  folly,"  he  said;  "she  has  turned 
a  deaf  ear  to  the  counsels  of  prudence.  She  must 
submit  to  her  fate." 

The  same  morning  Moowis  set  forth,  and  his  wife 
followed  him  at  a  distance.  The  way  was  rough  and 
intricate,  and  she  found  that  she  could  not  keep  up 
with  him,  he  walked  so  quickly.  She  struggled  hard 
and  obstinately  to  overtake  him,  but  Moowis  had 
been  for  some  time  out  of  sight  when  the  sun  rose 
and  commenced  upon  his  snow-formed  body  the 
work  of  dissolution.  He  began  to  melt  away  and 
fall  to  pieces.  As  Ma-mon-da-go-Kwa  followed  in 
his  track  she  found  piece  after  piece  of  his  clothing 
in  the  path.  She  first  found  his  mittens,  then  his 
moccasins,  then  his  leggings,  then  his  coat,  and  after 
that  other  parts  of  his  garments.  As  the  heat  unbound 
them  the  clothes  also  returned  to  their  filthy  condi 
tion.  Over  rocks,  through  wind-falls,  across  marshes, 
Ma-mon-da-go-Kwa  pursued  him  she  loved.  The  path 
turned  aside  in  all  directions.  Rags,  bones,  leather, 
beads,  feathers,  and  soiled  ribbons  she  found,  but 
caught  no  sight  of  Moowis.  She  spent  the  day  in 
wandering,  and  when  evening  came  she  was  still 
alone.  The  snow  having  now  melted,  she  had  com 
pletely  lost  her  husband's  track,  and  she  wandered 
about  uncertain  which  way  to  go  and  in  a  state  of 
perfect  despair.  At  length  with  bitter  cries  she 
lamented  her  fate. 


MOOWIS.  7 

"  Moowis,  Moowis,"  she  cried,  "  nin  ge  won  e  win 
ig,  ne  won  e  win  ig  !  " — "  Moowis,  Moowis,  you  have 
led  me  astray,  you  are  leading  me  astray  ! " 

With  this  cry  she  wandered  in  the  woods. 

The  cry  of  the  lost  Ma-mon-da-go-Kwa  is  some 
times  repeated  by  the  village  girls  who  have  made 
of  it  a  song — 


Moowis  !  Moowis  ! 
Forest  rover, 

Where  art  thou  ? 
Ah  !  nay  bravest,  gayest  lover, 

Guide  ine  now. 


Moowis  !  Moowis  ! 
Ah !  believe  me, 

List  my  moan  : 
Do  not,  do  not,  brave  heart,  leave  ine 

All  alone. 


Moowis  !  Moowis  ! 
Footprints  vanished  ! 

Whither  wend  I  ? 
Fated,  lost,  detested,  banished 

Must  I  die  ! 


Moowis  !  Moowis  ! 
Whither  goest  thou, 

Eye-bright  lover  ? 
Ah  !  thou  ravenous  bird  that  knowest, 

I  see  thee  hover, 


INDIAN   FOLKLORE. 

Circling,  circling 
As  I  wander, 

And  at  last 
When  I  fall  thou  then  wilt  come 

And  feed  upon  my  breast. 


THE  GIRL  WHO  MARRIED  THE 
PINE-TREE. 

UPON  the  side  of  a  certain  mountain  grew  some  pines, 
under  the  shade  of  which  the  Puckwudjinies,  or 
sprites,  were  accustomed  to  sport  at  times.  Now  it 
happened  that  in  the  neighbourhood  of  these  trees 
was  a  lodge  in  which  dwelt  a  beautiful  girl  and  her 
father  and  mother.  One  day  a  man  came  to  the  lodge 
of  the  father,  and  seeing  the  girl  he  loved  her,  and 
said — 

"  Give  me  Leelinau  for  my  wife,"  and  the  old  man 
consented. 

Now  it  happened  that  the  girl  did  not  like  her 
lover,  so  she  escaped  from  the  lodge  and  went  and 
hid  herself,  and  as  the  sun  was  setting  she  came  to 
the  pine-trees,  and  leaning  against  one  of  them  she 
lamented  her  hard  fate.  On  a  sudden  she  heard 
a  voice,  which  seemed  to  come  from  the  tree, 
saying— 

"Be  my  wife,  maiden,  beautiful  Leelinau,  beautiful 
Leelinau." 

The  girl  was  astonished,  not  knowing  whence  the 
voice  could  have  come.  She  listened  again,  and  the 
words  were  repeated,  evidently  by  the  tree  against 


10  INDIAN   FOLKLORE. 

which  she  leaned.  Then  the  maid  consented  to  be 
the  wife  of  the  pine-tree. 

Meanwhile  her  parents  had  missed  her,  and  had 
sent  out  parties  to  see  if  she  could  be  found,  but 
she  was  nowhere. 

Time  passed  on,  but  Leelinau  never  returned  to 
her  home.  Hunters  who  have  been  crossing  the 
mountain,  and  have  come  to  the  trees  at  sunset,  say 
that  they  have  seen  a  beautiful  girl  there  in  com 
pany  with  a  handsome  youth,  who  vanished  as  they 
approached. 


A  LEGEND  OF  MANABOZHO. 

MANABOZHO  made  the  land.  The  occasion  of  his 
doing  so  was  this. 

One  day  he  went  out  hunting  with  two  wolves. 
After  the  first  day's  hunt  one  of  the  wolves  left  him 
and  went  to  the  left,  but  the  other  continuing  with 
Manabozho  he  adopted  him  for  his  son.  The  lakes 
were  in  those  days  peopled  by  spirits  with  whom 
Manabozho  and  his  son  went  to  war.  They  destroyed 
all  the  spirits  in  one  lake,  and  then  went  on  hunt 
ing.  They  were  not,  however,  very  successful,  for 
every  deer  the  wolf  chased  fled  to  another  of  the 
lakes  and  escaped  from  them.  It  chanced  that  one 
day  Manabozho  started  a  deer,  and  the  wolf  gave 
chase.  The  animal  fled  to  the  lake,  which  was 
covered  with  ice,  and  the  wolf  pursued  it.  At  the 
moment  when  the  wolf  had  come  up  to  the  prey  the 
ice  broke,  and  both  fell  in,  when  the  spirits,  catching 
them,  at  once  devoured  them. 

Manabozho  went  up  and  down  the  lake-shore 
weeping  and  lamenting.  While  he  was  thus  dis 
tressed  he  heard  a  voice  proceeding  from  the  depths 
of  the  lake. 


12  INDIAN   FOLKLORE. 

" Manabozho,"  cried  the  voice,  "why  do  you 
weep  ? " 

Manabozho  answered — 

"  Have  I  not  cause  to  do  so  ?  I  have  lost  my 
son,  who  has  sunk  in  the  waters  of  the  lake." 

"You  will  never  see  him  more,"  replied  the  voice ; 
"  the  spirits  have  eaten  him." 

Then  Manabozho  wept  the  more  when  he  heard 
this  sad  news. 

11  Would,"  said  he,  "  I  might  meet  those  who  have 
thus  cruelly  treated  me  in  eating  my  son.  They 
should  feel  the  power  of  Manabozho,  who  would  be 
revenged." 

The  voice  informed  him  that  he  might  meet  the 
spirits  by  repairing  to  a  certain  place,  to  which  the 
spirits  would  come  to  sun  themselves.  Manabozho 
went  there  accordingly,  and,  concealing  himself,  saw 
the  spirits,  who  appeared  in  all  manner  of  forms, 
as  snakes,  bears,  and  other  things.  Manabozho, 
however,  did  not  escape  the  notice  of  one  of  the 
two  chiefs  of  the  spirits,  and  one  of  the  band  who 
wore  the  shape  of  a  very  large  snake  was  sent  by 
them  to  examine  what  the  strange  object  was. 

Manabozho  saw  the  spirit  coming,  and  assumed 
the  appearance  of  a  stump.  The  snake  coming  up 
wrapped  itself  around  the  trunk  and  squeezed  it 
with  all  its  strength,  so  that  Manabozho  was  on  the 
point  of  crying  out  when  the  snake  uncoiled  itself. 
The  relief  was,  however,  only  for  a  moment.  Again 
the  snake  wound  itself  around  him  and  gave  him 
this  time  even  a  more  severe  hug  than  before. 


A  LEGEND   OF  MANABOZHO.  13 

Manabozho  restrained  himself  and  did  not  suffer  a 
cry  to  escape  him,  and  the  snake,  now  satisfied  that 
the  stump  was  what  it  appeared  to  be,  glided  off  to 
its  companions.  The  chiefs  of  the  spirits  were  not, 
however,  satisfied,  so  they  sent  a  bear  to  try  what 
he  could  make  of  the  stump.  The  bear  came  up  to 
Manabozho  and  hugged,  and  bit,  and  clawed  him 
till  he  could  hardly  forbear  screaming  with  the  pain 
it  caused  him.  The  thought  of  his  son  and  of  the 
vengeance  he  wished  to  take  on  the  spirits,  how 
ever,  restrained  him,  and  the  bear  at  last  retreated 
to  its  fellows. 

"  It  is  nothing,"  it  said ;  "  it  is  really  a  stump." 
Then  the  spirits  were  reassured,  and,  having  sunned 
themselves,  lay  down  and  went  to  sleep.  Seeing 
this,  Manabozho  assumed  his  natural  shape,  and  steal 
ing  upon  them  with  his  bow  and  arrows,  slew  the 
chiefs  of  the  spirits.  In  doing  this  he  awoke  the 
others,  who,  seeing  their  chiefs  dead,  turned  upon 
Manabozho,  who  fled.  Then  the  spirits  pursued  him 
in  the  shape  of  a  vast  flood  of  water.  Hearing  it 
behind  him  the  fugitive  ran  as  fast  as  he  could  to 
the  hills,  but  each  one  became  gradually  submerged, 
so  that  Manabozho  was  at  last  driven  to  the  top  of 
the  highest  mountain.  Here  the  waters  still  sur 
rounding  him  and  gathering  in  height,  Manabozho 
climbed  the  highest  pine-tree  he  could  find.  The 
waters  still  rose.  Then  Manabozho  prayed  that  the 
tree  would  grow,  and  it  did  so.  Still  the  waters 
rose.  Manabozho  prayed  again  that  the  tree  would 
grow,  and  it  did  so,  but  not  so  much  as  before. 


14  INDIAN   FOLKLORE. 

Still  the  waters  rose,  and  Manabozho  was  up  to  his 
chin  in  the  flood,  when  he  prayed  again,  and  the  tree 
grew,  but  less  than  on  either  of  the  former  occasions. 
Manabozho  looked  round  on  the  waters,  and  saw  many 
animals  swimming  about  seeking  land.  Amongst 
them  he  saw  a  beaver,  an  otter,  and  a  musk-rat. 
Then  he  cried  to  them,  saying — 

"  My  brothers,  come  to  me.  We  must  have  some 
earth,  or  we  shall  all  die." 

So  they  came  to  him  and  consulted  as  to  what 
had  best  be  done,  and  it  was  agreed  that  they  should 
dive  down  and  see  if  they  could  not  bring  up  some 
of  the  earth  from  below. 

The  beaver  dived  first,  but  was  drowned  before  he 
reached  the  bottom.  Then  the  otter  went.  He  came 
within  sight  of  the  earth,  but  then  his  senses  failed 
him  before  he  could  get  a  bite  of  it.  The  musk-rat 
followed.  He  sank  to  the  bottom,  and  bit  the  earth. 
Then  he  lost  his  senses  and  came  floating  up  to  the 
top  of  the  water.  Manabozho  awaited  the  reappear 
ance  of  the  three,  and  as  they  came  up  to  the 
surface  he  drew  them  to  him.  He  examined  their 
claws,  but  found  nothing.  Then  he  looked  in  their 
mouths  and  found  the  beaver's  and  the  otter's  empty. 
In  the  musk-rat's,  however,  he  found  a  little  earth. 
This  Manabozho  took  in  his  hands  and  rubbed  till 
it  was  a  fine  dust.  Then  he  dried  it  in  the  sun,  and, 
when  it  was  quite  light,  he  blew  it  all  round  him  over 
the  water,  and  the  dry  land  appeared. 

Thus  Manabozho  made  the  land. 


PAUPPUKKEEWIS. 

A  MAN  of  large  stature  and  great  activity  of  mind 
and  body  found  himself  standing  alone  on  a  prairie. 
He  thought  to  himself — 

"  How  came  I  here  ?  Are  there  no  beings  on  this 
earth  but  myself  *?  I  must  travel  and  see.  I  must 
walk  till  I  find  the  abodes  of  men." 

So  as  soon  as  his  mind  was  made  up  he  set  out, 
he  knew  not  whither,  in  search  of  habitations.  No 
obstacles  diverted  him  from  his  purpose.  Prairies, 
rivers,  woods,  and  storms  did  not  daunt  his  courage 
or  turn  him  back.  After  travelling  a  long  time  he 
came  to  a  wood  in  which  he  saw  decayed  stumps  of 
trees,  as  if  they  had  been  cut  in  ancient  times,  but 
he  found  no  other  traces  of  men.  Pursuing  his 
journey  he  found  more  recent  marks  of  the  same  kind, 
and  later  on  he  came  to  fresh  traces  of  human  beings, 
first  their  footsteps,  and  then  the  wood  they  had 
cut  lying  in  heaps. 

Continuing  on  he  emerged  towards  dusk  from  the 
forest,  and  beheld  at  a  distance  a  large  village  of 
high  lodges,  standing  on  rising  ground.  He  said 
to  himself — 

15 


16  INDIAN   FOLKLORE. 

"  I  will  arrive  there  at  a  run." 

Off  he  started  with  all  his  speed,  and  on  coming 
to  the  first  lodge  he  jumped  over  it.  Those  within 
saw  something  pass  over  the  top,  and  then  they 
heard  a  thump  on  the  ground. 

"  What  is  that  T'  they  all  said. 

One  came  out  to  see,  and,  finding  a  stranger,  invited 
him  in.  He  found  himself  in  the  presence  of  an 
old  chief  and  several  men  who  were  seated  in  the 
lodge.  Meat  was  set  before  him,  after  which  the 
chief  asked  him  where  he  was  going  and  what  his 
name  was.  He  answered  he  was  in  search  of  adven 
tures,  and  that  his  name  was  Pauppukkeewis  (grass 
hopper).  The  eyes  of  all  were  fixed  upon  him. 

"  Pauppukkeewis  ! "  said  one  to  another,  and  the 
laugh  went  round. 

Pauppukkeewis  made  but  a  short  stay  in  the  vil 
lage.  He  was  not  easy  there.  The  place  gave  him 
no  opportunity  to  display  his  powers. 

"  I  will  be  off,"  he  said,  and  taking  with  him  a 
young  man  who  had  formed  a  strong  attachment 
for  him  and  who  might  serve  him  as  a  mesh-in- 
au-wa  (official  who  bears  the  pipe),  he  set  out  once 
more  on  his  travels.  The  two  travelled  together, 
and  when  the  young  man  was  fatigued  with  walking 
Pauppukkeewis  would  show  him  a  few  tricks,  such 
as  leaping  over  trees,  and  turning  round  on  one 
leg  till  he  made  the  dust  fly  in  a  cloud  around 
him.  In  this  manner  he  very  much  amused  his  com 
panion,  though  at  times  his  performance  somewhat 
alarmed  him. 


PAUPPUKKEEWIS.  1 7 

One  day  they  came  to  a  large  village,  where  they 
were  well  received.  The  people  told  them  that  there 
were  a  number  of  manitoes  who  lived  some  distance 
away  and  who  killed  all  who  came  to  their  lodge. 

The  people  had  made  many  attempts  to  extirpate 
these  manitoes,  but  the  war  parties  that  went  out 
for  this  purpose  were  always  unsuccessful. 

"I  will  go  and  see  them,"  said  Patippukkeewis. 

The  chief  of  the  village  warned  him  of  the  danger 
he  would  run,  but  finding  him  resolved,  said — 

"Well,  if  you  will  go,  since  you  are  my  guest, 
I  will  send  twenty  warriors  with  you." 

Pauppukkeewis  thanked  him  for  this.  Twenty 
young  men  offered  themselves  for  the  expedition. 
They  went  forward,  and  in  a  short  time  descried  the 
lodge  of  the  manitoes.  Pauppukkeewis  placed  his 
friend  and  the  warriors  near  him  so  that  they  might 
see  all  that  passed,  and  then  he  went  alone  into 
the  lodge.  When  he  entered  he  found  five  horrible- 
looking  manitoes  eating.  These  were  the  father  and 
four  sons.  Their  appearance  was  hideous.  Their 
eyes  were  set  low  in  their  heads  as  if  the  manitoes 
were  half  starved.  They  offered  Pauppukkeewis  part 
of  their  meat,  but  he  refused  it. 

"  What  have  you  come  for  ] "  asked  the  old  one. 

"Nothing,"  answered  Pauppukkeewis. 

At  this  they  all  stared  at  him. 

"Do  you  not  wish  to  wrestle  ?  "  they  all  asked. 

"Yes,"  replied  he. 

A  hideous  smile  passed  over  their  faces. 

"  You  go, "  said  the  others  to  their  eldest  brother. 


18  INDIAN   FOLKLORE. 

Pauppukkeewis  and  his  antagonist  were  soon 
clinched  in  each  other's  arms.  He  knew  the  mani- 
toes'  object, — they  wanted  his  flesh, — but  he  was  pre 
pared  for  them. 

"  Haw,  haw !  "  they  cried,  and  the  dust  and  dry 
leaves  flew  about  the  wrestlers  as  if  driven  by  a 
strong  wind. 

The  manito  was  strong,  but  Pauppukkeewis  soon 
found  he  could  master  him.  He  tripped  him  up, 
and  threw  him  with  a  giant's  force  head  foremost 
on  a  stone,  and  he  fell  insensible. 

The  brothers  stepped  up  in  quick  succession,  but 
Pauppukkeewis  put  his  tricks  in  full  play,  and  soon 
all  the  four  lay  bleeding  on  the  ground.  The  old 
manito  got  frightened,  and  ran  for  his  life.  Paup 
pukkeewis  pursued  him  for  sport.  Sometimes  he 
was  before  him,  sometimes  over  his  head.  Now  he 
would  give  him  a  kick,  now  a  push,  now  a  trip,  till 
the  manito  was  quite  exhausted.  Meanwhile  Paup- 
pukkeewis's  friend  and  the  warriors  came  up,  crying— 

"  Ha,  ha,  a  !  Ha,  ha,  a  !  Pauppukkeewis  is  driv 
ing  him  before  him." 

At  length  Pauppukkeewis  threw  the  manito  to 
the  ground  with  such  force  that  he  lay  senseless, 
and  the  warriors,  carrying  him  off,  laid  him  with 
the  bodies  of  his  sons,  and  set  fire  to  the  whole, 
consuming  them  to  ashes. 

Around  the  lodge  Pauppukkeewis  and  his  friends 
saw  a  large  number  of  bones,  the  remains  of  the 
warriors  whom  the  manitoes  had  slain.  Taking 
three  arrows,  Pauppukkeewis  called  upon  the  Great 


PAUPPUKKEEWIS.  19 

Spirit,  and  then,  shooting  an  arrow  in  the  air,  he 
cried— 

"  You,  who  are  lying  down,  rise  up,  or  you  will 
be  hit." 

The  bones  at  these  words  all  collected  in  one 
place.  Again  Pauppukkeewis  shot  another  arrow 
into  the  air,  crying — 

"  You,  who  are  lying  down,  rise  up,  or  you  will  be 
hit,"  and  each  bone  drew  towards  its  fellow. 

Then  he  shot  a  third  arrow,  crying — 

"  You,  who  are  lying  down,  rise  up,  or  you  will 
be  hit,"  and  the  bones  immediately  came  together, 
flesh  came  over  them,  and  the  warriors,  whose  remains 
they  were,  stood  before  Pauppukkeewis  alive  and  well. 

He  led  them  to  the  chief  of  the  village,  who  had 
been  his  friend,  and  gave  them  up  to  him.  Soon 
after,  the  chief  with  his  counsellors  came  to  him., 
saying— 

"  Who  is  more  worthy  to  rule  than  you  1  You 
alone  can  defend  us." 

Pauppukkeewis  thanked  the  chief,  but  told  him  he 
must  set  out  again  in  search  of  further  adventures. 
The  chief  and  the  counsellors  pressed  him  to  remain, 
but  he  was  resolved  to  leave  them,  and  so  he  told 
the  chief  to  make  his  friend  ruler  while  he  himself 
went  on  his  travels. 

"  I  will  come  again,"  said  he,  "  sometime  and 
see  you." 

"  Ho,  ho,  ho  ! "  they  all  cried,  "  come  back  again 
and  see  us." 

He  promised  that  he  would,  and  set  out  alone. 


20  INDIAN    FOLKLORE. 

After  travelling  for  some  time,  he  came  to  a  large 
lake,  and  on  looking  about  he  saw  an  enormous 
otter  on  an  island.  He  thought  to  himself— 

"  His  skin  will  make  me  a  fine  pouch,"  and,  draw 
ing  near,  he  drove  an  arrow  into  the  otter's  side. 
He  waded  into  the  lake,  and  with  some  difficulty 
dragged  the  carcass  ashore.  He  took  out  the  entrails, 
but  even  then  the  carcass  was  so  heavy  that  it 
was  as  much  as  he  could  do  to  drag  it  up  a  hill 
overlooking  the  lake.  As  soon  as  he  got  it  into  the 
sunshine,  where  it  was  warm,  he  skinned  the  otter, 
and  threw  the  carcass  away,  for  he  said  to  himself — 

"The  war-eagle  will  come,  and  then  I  shall  have 
a  chance  to  get  his  skin  and  his  feathers  to  put 
on  my  head." 

Very  soon  he  heard  a  noise  in  the  air,  but  he 
could  see  nothing.  At  length  a  large  eagle  dropped, 
as  if  from  the  sky,  on  to  the  otter's  carcass.  Paup- 
pukkeewis  drew  his  bow  and  sent  an  arrow  through 
the  bird's  body.  The  eagle  made  a  dying  effort 
and  lifted  the  carcass  up  several  feet,  but  it  could 
not  disengage  its  claws,  and  the  weight  soon  brought 
the  bird  down  again. 

Then  Pauppukkeewis  skinned  the  bird,  crowned 
his  head  with  its  feathers,  and  set  out  again  on  his 
journey. 

After  walking  a  while  he  came  to  a  lake,  the 
water  of  which  came  right  up  to  the  trees  on  its 
banks.  He  soon  saw  that  the  lake  had  been  made 
by  beavers.  He  took  his  station  at  a  certain  spot 
to  see  whether  any  of  the  beavers  would  show  them- 


PAUPPUKKEEWIS.  21 

selves.    Soon  he  saw  the  head  of  one  peeping  out  of 
the  water  to  see  who  the  stranger  was. 

"My  friend,"  said  Pauppukkeewis,  "  could  you  not 
turn  me  into  a  beaver  like  yourself  *J " 

"I  do  not  know,"  replied  the  beaver;  "I  will 
go  and  ask  the  others  ]1 

Soon  all  the  beavers  showed  their  heads  above 
the  water,  and  looked  to  see  if  Pauppukkeewis 
was  armed,  but  he  had  left  his  bow  and  arrows 
in  a  hollow  tree  a  short  distance  off.  When  they 
were  satisfied  they  all  came  near. 

"Can  you  not,  with  all  your  united  power,"  said 
he,  "  turn  me  into  a  beaver  1  I  wish  to  live  among 
you." 

"Yes,"  answeied  the  chief,  "lie  down;"  and 
Pauppukkeewis  soon  found  himself  changed  into 
one  of  them. 

"  You  must  make  me  large,"  said  he,  "  larger 
than  any  of  you." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  they ;  "  by  and  by,  when  we  get 
into  the  lodge,  it  shall  be  done." 

They  all  dived  into  the  lake,  and  Pauppukkeewis 
passing  large  heaps  of  limbs  of  trees  and  logs  at 
the  bottom,  asked  the  use  of  them.  The  beavers 
answered — 

"They  are  our  winter  provisions." 

When  they  all  got  into  the  lodge  their  number 
was  about  one  hundred.  The  lodge  was  large  and 
warm. 

"  Now  we  will  make  you  large,"  said  they,  exert 
ing  all  their  power.  "  Will  that  do  1 " 


22  INDIAN   FOLKLORE. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  for  he  found  he  was  ten  times 
the  size  of  the  largest. 

"  You  need  not  go  out,"  said  they.  "  We  will  bring 
your  food  into  the  lodge,  and  you  shall  be  our  chief." 

"Very  well,"  answered  Pauppukkeewis.  He 
thought — 

"  I  will  stay  here  and  grow  fat  at  their  expense," 
but  very  soon  a  beaver  came  into  the  lodge  out  of 
breath,  crying — 

"  We  are  attacked  by  Indians." 

All  huddled  together  in  great  fear.  The  water 
began  to  lower,  for  the  hunters  had  broken  down  the 
dam,  and  soon  the  beavers  heard  them  on  the  roof 
of  the  lodge,  breaking  it  in.  Out  jumped  all  the 
beavers  and  so  escaped.  Pauppukkeewis  tried  to 
follow  them,  but,  alas  !  they  had  made  him  so  large 
that  he  could  not  creep  out  at  the  hole.  He  called  to 
them  to  come  back,  but  none  answered.  He  worried 
himself  so  much  in  trying  to  escape  that  he  looked 
like  a  bladder.  He  could  not  change  himself  into  a 
man  again  though  he  heard  and  understood  all  the 
hunters  said.  One  of  them  put  his  head  in  at  the 
top  of  the  lodge. 

"  Ty-au  !  "  cried  he.  "  Tut-ty-au  !  Me-shau-mik  ! 
King  of  the  beavers  is  in." 

Then  they  all  got  at  Pauppukkeewis  and  battered 
in  his  skull  with  their  clubs.  After  that  seven  or 
eight  of  them  placed  his  body  on  poles  and  carried 
him  home.  As  he  went  he  reflected — 

"  What  will  become  of  me  1  My  ghost  or  shadow 
will  not  die  after  they  get  me  to  their  lodges." 


PAUPPUKKEEWIS.  23 

When  the  party  arrived  home,  they  sent  out  invi 
tations  to  a  grand  feast.  The  women  took  Paup- 
pukkeewis  and  laid  him  in  the  snow  to  skin  him, 
but  as  soon  as  his  flesh  got  cold,  his  jee-bi,  or  spirit, 
fled. 

Pauppukkeewis  found  himself  standing  on  a 
prairie,  having  assumed  his  mortal  shape.  After 
walking  a  short  distance,  he  saw  a  herd  of  elks 
feeding.  He  admired  the  apparent  ease  and  enjoy 
ment  of  their  life,  and  thought  there  could  be  nothing 
more  pleasant  than  to  have  the  liberty  of  running 
about,  and  feeding  on  the  prairies.  He  asked  them 
if  they  could  not  change  him  into  an  elk. 

"  Yes,"  they  answered,  after  a  pause.  "  Get  down 
on  your  hands  and  feet."  He  did  so,  and  soon  found 
himself  an  elk. 

"  I  want  big  horns  and  big  feet,"  said  he.  "  I  wish 
to  be  very  large." 

"Yes,  yes,"  they  said.  "  There,"  exerting  all  their 
power,  "  are  you  big  enough  1 " 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  for  he  saw  he  was  very  large. 

They  spent  a  good  time  in  playing  and  running. 

Being  rather  cold  one  day  he  went  into  a  thick 
wood  for  shelter,  and  was  followed  by  most  of  the 
herd.  They  had  not  been  there  long  before  some 
elks  from  behind  passed  them  like  a  strong  wind. 
All  took  the  alarm,  and  off  they  ran,  Pauppukkeewis 
with  the  rest. 

"  Keep  out  on  the  plains,"  said  they,  but  he  found 
it  was  too  late  to  do  so,  for  they  had  already  got 
entangled  in  the  thick  woods.  He  soon  smelt  the 


24  INDIAN   FOLKLORE. 

hunters,  who  were  closely  following  his  trail,  for  they 
had  left  all  the  others  to  follow  him.  He  jumped 
furiously,  and  broke  down  young  trees  in  his  flight, 
but  it  only  served  to  retard  his  progress.  He  soon 
felt  an  arrow  in  his  side.  He  jumped  over  trees 
in  his  agony,  but  the  arrows  clattered  thicker 
and  thicker  about  him,  and  at  last  one  entered  his 
heart.  He  fell  to  the  ground  and  heard  the  whoop 
of  triumph  given  by  the  warriors.  On  coming  up 
they  looked  at  the  carcass  with  astonishment,  and 
with  their  hands  up  to  their  mouths,  exclaimed— 

"Ty-au!    ty-au!" 

There  were  about  sixty  in  the  party,  who  had 
come  out  on  a  special  hunt,  for  one  of  their  number 
had,  the  day  before,  observed  Pauppukkeewis's  large 
tracks  in  the  sand.  They  skinned  him,  and  as  his 
flesh  got  cold  his  jee-bi  took  its  flight,  and  once 
more  he  found  himself  in  human  shape. 

His  passion  for  adventure  was  not  yet  cooled. 
On  coming  to  a  large  lake,  the  shore  of  which 
was  sandy,  he  saw  a  large  flock  of  brant,  and, 
speaking  to  them,  he  asked  them  to  turn  him  into 
a  brant. 

"Very  well,"  said  they. 

"  But  I  want  to  be  very  large,"  said  he. 

"Very  well,"  replied  the  brant,  and  he  soon 
found  himself  one  of  them,  of  prodigious  size,  all 
the  others  looking  on  at  him  in  amazement. 

"  You  must  fly  as  leader,"  they  said. 

"  No,"  replied  Pauppukkeewis,  "  I  will  fly  behind." 

"  Very  well,"   said  they.      "  One  thing  we  have 


PAUPPUKKEEWIS.  25 

to  say  to  you.  You  must  be  careful  in  flying  not 
to  look  down,  for  if  you  do  something  may  happen 
to  you." 

"  Be  it  so,"  said  he,  and  soon  the  flock  rose  up 
in  the  air,  for  they  were  bound  for  the  north. 
They  flew  very  fast  with  Pauppukkeewis  behind. 
One  day,  while  going  with  a  strong  wind,  and  as 
swift  as  their  wings  would  flap,  while  they  passed 
over  a  large  village,  the  Indians  below  raised  a 
great  shout,  for  they  were  amazed  at  the  enormous 
size  of  Pauppukkeewis.  They  made  such  a  noise 
that  Pauppukkeewis  forgot  what  had  been  told  him 
about  not  looking  down.  He  was  flying  as  swift  as 
an  arrow,  and  as  soon  as  he  brought  his  neck  in, 
and  stretched  it  down  to  look  at  the  shouters,  his 
tail  was  caught  by  the  wind,  and  he  was  blown  over 
and  over.  He  tried  to  right  himself,  but  without 
success.  Down  he  went  from  an  immense  height, 
turning  over  and  over.  He  lost  his  senses,  and 
when  he  recovered  them  he  found  himself  jammed 
in  a  cleft  in  a  hollow  tree.  To  get  backward  or  for 
ward  was  impossible,  and  there  he  remained  until 
his  brant  life  was  ended  by  starvation.  Then  his 
jee-bi  again  left  the  carcass,  and  once  more  he  found 
himself  in  human  shape. 

Travelling  was  still  his  passion,  and  one  day  he 
came  to  a  lodge,  in  "which  were  two  old  men  whose 
heads  were  white  from  age.  They  treated  him  well, 
and  he  told  them  ho  was  going  back  to  his  village 
to  see  his  friends  and  people.  The  old  men  said 
they  would  aid  him,  and  pointed  out  the  way  they 


26  INDIAN   FOLKLORE. 

said  he  should  go,  but  they  were  deceivers.  After 
walking  all  day  he  came  to  a  lodge  very  like  the 
first,  and  looking  in  he  found  two  old  men  with 
white  heads.  It  was  in  fact  the  very  same  lodge, 
and  he  had  been  walking  in  a  circle.  The  old  men 
did  not  undeceive  him,  but  pretended  to  be  strangers, 
and  said  in  a  kind  voice — 

"We  will  show  you  the  way." 

After  walking  the  third  day,  and  coming  back  to 
the  same  place,  he  discovered  their  trickery,  for  he 
had  cut  a  notch  in  the  door-post. 

"Who  are  you,"  said  he  to  them,  "to  treat  me 
so  ? "  and  he  gave  one  a  kick  and  the  other  a  slap 
that  killed  them.  Their  blood  flew  against  the  rocks 
near  their  lodge,  and  that  is  the  reason  there  are 
red  streaks  in  them  to  this  day.  Then  Pauppukkee- 
wis  burned  their  lodge. 

He  continued  his  journey,  not  knowing  exactly 
which  way  to  go.  At  last  he  came  to  a  big  lake. 
He  ascended  the  highest  hill  to  try  and  see  the 
opposite  shore,  but  he  could  not,  so  he  made  a  canoe 
and  took  a  sail  on  the  water.  On  looking  down  he 
saw  that  the  bottom  of  the  lake  was  covered  with 
dark  fish,  of  which  he  caught  some.  This  made  him 
wish  to  return  to  his  village,  and  bring  his  people 
to  live  near  this  lake.  He  sailed  on,  and  towards 
evening  came  to  an  island,  where  he  stopped  and  ate 
the  fish. 

Next  day  he  returned  to  the  mainland,  and, 
while  wandering  along  the  shore,  he  encountered 
a  more  powerful  manito  than  himself,  named  Mana- 


PAUPPUKKEEWIS.  27 

bozho.  Pauppukkeewis  thought  it  best,  after  play 
ing  him  a  trick,  to  keep  out  of  his  way.  He  again 
thought  of  returning  to  his  village,  and,  transform 
ing  himself  into  a  partridge,  took  his  flight  towards 
it.  In  a  short  time  he  reached  it,  and  his  return 
was  welcomed  with  feasting  and  songs.  He  told 
them  of  the  lake  and  of  the  fish,  and,  telling  them 
that  it  would  be  easier  for  them  to  live  there,  per 
suaded  them  all  to  remove.  He  immediately  began 
to  lead  them  by  short  journeys,  and  all  things  turned 
out  as  he  had  said. 

While  the  people  lived  there  a  messenger  came 
to  Pauppukkeewis  in  the  shape  of  a  bear,  and  said 
that  the  bear-chief  wished  to  see  him  at  once  at 
his  village.  Pauppukkeewis  was  ready  in  an  instant, 
and  getting  on  the  messenger's  back  was  carried  away. 
Towards  evening  they  ascended  a  high  mountain, 
and  came  to  a  cave,  in  which  the  bear-chief  lived. 
He  was  a  very  large  creature,  and  he  made  Paup 
pukkeewis  welcome,  inviting  him  into  his  lodge. 

As  soon  as  propriety  allowed  he  spoke,  and  said 
that  he  had  sent  for  him  because  he  had  heard  he  was 
the  chief  who  was  leading  a  large  party  towards  his 
hunting-grounds. 

"You  must  know,"  said  he,  "that  you  have  no 
right  there,  and  I  wish  you  to  leave  the  country 
with  your  party,  or  else  we  must  fight." 

"  Very  well,"  replied  Pauppukkeewis,  "so  be  it." 

He  did  not  wish  to  do  anything  without  consulting 
his  people,  and  he  saw  that  the  bear-chief  was  rais 
ing  a  war-party,  so  he  said  he  would  go  back  that 


28  INDIAN  FOLKLORE. 

night.  The  bear-king  told  him  he  might  do  as  he 
wished,  and  that  one  of  the  bears  was  at  his  com 
mand  ;  so  Pauppukkeewis,  jumping  on  its  back, 
rode  home.  Then  he  assembled  the  village,  and  told 
the  young  men  to  kill  the  bear,  make  ready  a  feast, 
and  hang  the  head  outside  the  village,  for  he  knew 
the  bear  spies  would  soon  see  it  and  carry  the  news 
to  their  chief. 

Next  morning  Pauppukkeewis  got  all  his  young 
warriors  ready  for  the  fight.  After  waiting  one  day, 
the  bear  war-party  came  in  sight,  making  a  tremen 
dous  noise.  The  bear-chief  advanced,  and  said  that 
he  did  not  wish  to  shed  the  blood  of  the  young 
warriors,  but  if  Pauppukkeewis  would  consent  they 
two  would  run  a  race,  and  the  winner  should  kill 
the  losing  chief,  and  all  the  loser's  followers  should 
be  the  slaves  of  the  other.  Pauppukkeewis  agreed, 
and  they  ran  before  all  the  warriors.  He  was  victor ; 
but  not  to  terminate  the  race  too  quickly  he  gave 
the  bear-chief  some  specimens  of  his  skilJ.  forming 
eddies  and  whirlwinds  with  the  sand  as  he  twisted 
and  turned  about.  As  the  bear-chief  came  to  the 
post  Pauppukkeewis  drove  an  arrow  through  him. 
Having  done  this  he  told  his  young  men  to  take 
the  bears  and  tie  one  at  the  door  of  each  lodge,  that 
they  might  remain  in  future  as  slaves. 

After  seeing  that  all  was  quiet  and  prosperous  in 
the  village,  Pauppukkeewis  felt  his  desire  for  adven 
ture  returning,  so  he  took  an  affectionate  leave  of 
his  friends  and  people,  and  started  off  again.  After 
wandering  a  long  time,  he  came  to  the  lodge  of 


PAUPPUKKEEWIS.  29 

Manabozho,  who  was  absent.  Pauppukkeewis  thought 
he  would  play  him  a  trick,  so  he  turned  everything 
in  the  lodge  upside  down  and  killed  his  chickens. 
Now  Manabozho  calls  all  the  fowl  of  the  air  his 
chickens,  and  among  the  number  was  a  raven,  the 
meanest  of  birds,  and  him  Pauppukkeewis  killed 
and  hung  up  by  the  neck  to  insult  Manabozho.  He 
then  went  on  till  he  came  to  a  very  high  point  of 
rocks  running  out  into  the  lake,  from  the  top  of 
which  he  could  see  the  country  as  far  as  eye  could 
reach.  While  he  sat  there,  Manabozho's  mountain 
chickens  flew  round  and  past  him  in  great  numbers. 
So,  out  of  spite,  he  shot  many  of  them,  for  his 
arrows  were  sure  and  the  birds  many,  and  he  amused 
himself  by  throwing  the  birds  down  the  precipice. 
At  length  a  wary  bird  called  out — 

"  Pauppukkeewis  is  killing  us  :  go  and  tell  our 
father." 

Away  flew  some  of  them,  and  Manabozho  soon 
made  his  appearance  on  the  plain  below. 

Pauppukkeewis  slipped  down  the  other  side  of  the 
mountain.  Manabozho  cried  from  the  top — 

"The  earth  is  not  so  large  but  I  can  get  up  to 
you." 

Off  Pauppukkeewis  ran  and  Manabozho  after  him. 
He  ran  over  hills  and  prairies  with  all  his  speed,  but 
his  pursuer  was  still  hard  after  him.  Then  he  thought 
of  a  shift.  He  stopped,  and  climbed  a  large  pine- 
tree,  stripped  it  of  all  its  green  foliage,  and  threw  it 
to  the  winds.  Then  he  ran  on.  When  Manabozho 
reached  the  tree,  it  called  out  to  him — 


30  INDIAN   FOLKLORE. 

"Great  Manabozho,  give  me  my  life  again.  Paup- 
pukkeewis  has  killed  me." 

"  I  will  do  so,"  said  Manabozho,  and  it  took  him 
some  time  to  gather  the  scattered  foliage.  Then  he 
resumed  the  chase.  Pauppukkeewis  repeated  the 
same  trick  with  the  hemlock,  and  with  other  trees, 
for  Manabozho  would  always  stop  to  restore  any 
thing  that  called  upon  him  to  give  it  life  again. 
By  this  means  Pauppukkeewis  kept  ahead,  but  still 
Manabozho  was  overtaking  him  when  Pauppukkee 
wis  saw  an  elk.  He  asked  it  to  take  him  on  its 
back,  and  this  the  animal  did,  and  for  a  time  he 
made  great  progress.  Still  Manabozho  was  in  .sight. 
Pauppukkeewis  dismounted,  and,  coming  to  a  large 
sandstone  rock,  he  broke  it  in  pieces,  and  scattered 
the  grains.  Manabozho  was  so  close  upon  him  at 
this  place  that  he  had  almost  caught  him,  but  the 
foundation  of  the  rock  cried  out — 

"Haye!  Ne-me-sho!  Pauppukkeewis  has  spoiled 
me.  Will  you  not  restore  me  to  life  1 " 

"Yes,"  replied  Manabozho,  and  he  restored  the 
rock  to  its  previous  shape.  He  then  pushed  on  in 
pursuit  of  Pauppukkeewis,  and  had  got  so  near  as 
to  put  out  his  arm  to  seize  him,  when  Pauppuk 
keewis  dodged  him,  and  raised  such  a  dust  and  com 
motion  by  whirlwinds,  as  to  make  the  trees  break? 
and  the  sand  and  leaves  dance  in  the  air.  Again 
and  again  Manabozho's  hand  was  put  out  to  catch 
him,  but  he  dodged  him  at  every  turn,  and  at  last, 
making  a  great  dust,  he  dashed  into  a  hollow  tree, 
which  had  been  blown  down,  and,  changing  himself 


PAUPPUKKEEWIS.  31 

into  a  snake,  crept  out  at  its  roots.  Well  that  he  did  ; 
for  at  the  moment  Manabozho,  who  is  Ogee-bau-ge- 
mon  (a  species  of  lightning)  struck  the  tree  with  all 
his  power,  and  shivered  it  to  fragments.  Pauppuk- 
keewis  again  took  human  shape,  arid  again  Mana 
bozho,  pursuing  him,  pressed  him  hard. 

At  a  distance  Pauppukkeewis  saw  a  very  high  rock 
jutting  out  into  a  lake,  and  he  ran  for  the  foot  of 
the  precipice,  which  was  abrupt  and  elevated.  As  he 
came  near,  the  manito  of  the  rock  opened  his  door 
and  told  him  to  come  in.  No  sooner  was  the  door 
closed  than  Manabozho  knocked  at  it. 

"  Open,"  he  cried  in  a  loud  voice. 

The  manito  was  afraid  of  him,  but  said  to  his 
guest — 

"  Since  I  have  sheltered  you,  I  would  sooner  die 
with  you  than  open  the  door." 

"  Open,"  Manabozho  cried  again. 

The  manito  was  silent.  Manabozho  made  no 
attempt  to  force  the  door  open.  He  waited  a  few 
moments. 

"  Very  well,"  said  he,  "I  give  you  till  night  to 
live." 

The  manito  trembled,  for  he  knew  that  when  the 
hour  came  he  would  be  shut  up  under  the  earth. 

Night  came,  the  clouds  hung  low  and  black,  and 
every  moment  the  forked  lightning  flashed  from 
them.  The  black  clouds  advanced  slowly  and  threw 
their  dark  shadows  afar,  and  behind  was  heard  the 
rumbling  noise  of  the  coming  thunder.  When  the 
clouds  were  gathered  over  the  rock  the  thunders 


32  INDIAN  FOLKLORE. 

roared,  the  lightning  flashed,  the  ground  shook,  and 
the  solid  rock  split,  tottered,  and  fell.  Under  the 
ruins  lay  crushed  the  mortal  bodies  of  Pauppukkeewis 
and  the  manito. 

It  was  only  then  that  Pauppukkeewis  found  that 
he  was  really  dead.  He  had  been  killed  before  in  the 
shapes  of  different  animals,  but  now  his  body,  in 
human  shape,  was  crushed. 

Manabozho  came  and  took  his  jee-bi,  or  spirit. 
"You,"  said  he  to  Pauppukkeewis,  "shall  not  be  again 
permitted  to  live  on  the  earth.  I  will  give  you  the 
shape  of  the  war-eagle,  and  you  shall  be  the  chief  of 
all  birds,  and  your  duty  shall  be  to  watch  over  their 
destinies." 


THE  DISCOVERY  OF  THE  UPPER 
WORLD. 

THE  Minnatarees,  and  all  the  other  Indians  who  are 
not  of  the  stock  of  the  grandfather  of  nations, 
were  once  not  of  this  upper  air,  but  dwelt  in  the 
bowels  of  the  earth.  The  Good  Spirit,  when  he 
made  them,  meant,  no  doubt,  at  a  proper  time  to 
put  them  in  enjoyment  of  all  the  good  things  which 
he  had  prepared  for  them  upon  earth,  but  he  ordered 
that  their  first  stage  of  existence  should  be  within 
it.  They  all  dwelt  underground,  like  moles,  in  one 
great  cavern.  When  they  emerged  it  was  in  different 
places,  but  generally  near  where  they  now  inhabit. 
At  that  time  few  of  the  Indian  tribes  wore  the 
human  form.  Some  had  the  figures  or  semblances 
of  beasts.  The  Paukunnawkuts  were  rabbits,  some 
of  the  Delawares  were  ground-hogs,  others  tortoises, 
and  the  Tuscaroras,  and  a  great  many  others,  were 
rattlesnakes.  The  Sioux  were  the  hissing-snakes, 
but  the  Minnatarees  were  always  men.  Their  part 
of  the  great  cavern  was  situated  far  towards  the 
mountains  of  snow. 

The  great  cavern  in  which  the  Indians  dwelt  was 

Indian.  rt 


34  INDIAN  FOLKLORE. 

indeed  a  dark  and  dismal  region.  In  the  country  of 
the  Minnatarees  it  was  lighted  up  only  by  the  rays 
of  the  sun  which  strayed  through  the  fissures  of  the 
rock  and  the  crevices  in  the  roof  of  the  cavern,  while 
in  that  of  the  Mengwe  all  was  dark  and  sunless. 
The  life  of  the  Indians  was  a  life  of  misery  compared 
with  that  they  now  enjoy,  and  it  was  endured  only 
because  they  were  ignorant  of  a  fairer  or  richer 
world,  or  a  better  or  happier  state  of  being. 

There  were  among  the  Minnatarees  two  boys, 
who,  from  the  hour  of  their  birth,  showed  superior 
wisdom,  sagacity,  and  cunning.  Even  while  they 
were  children  they  were  wiser  than  their  fathers. 
They  asked  their  parents  whence  the  light  came 
which  streamed  through  the  fissures  of  the  rock  and 
played  along  the  sides  of  the  cavern,  and  whence 
and  from  what  descended  the  roots  of  the  great  vine. 
Their  father  could  not  tell  them,  and  their  mother 
only  laughed  at  the  question,  which  appeared  to  her 
very  foolish.  They  asked  the  priest,  but  he  could 
not  tell  them;  but  he  said  he  supposed  the  light 
came  from  the  eyes  of  some  great  wolf.  The  boys 
asked  the  king  tortoise,  who  sulkily  drew  his  head 
into  his  shell,  and  made  no  answer.  When  they 
asked  the  chief  rattlesnake,  he  answered  that  he 
knew,  and  would  tell  them  all  about  it  if  they  would 
promise  to  make  peace  with  his  tribe,  and  on  no 
account  kill  one  of  his  descendants.  The  boys  pro 
mised,  and  the  chief  rattlesnake  then  told  them  that 
there  was  a  world  above  them,  a  beautiful  world, 
peopled  by  creatures  in  the  shape  of  beasts,  having 


THE  DISCOVERY  OF  THE  UPPER  WORLD.  35 

a  pure  atmosphere  and  a  soft  sky,  sweet  fruits  and 
mellow  water,  well-stocked  hunting-grounds  and  well- 
filled  lakes.  He  told  them  to  ascend  by  the  roots, 
which  were  those  of  a  great  grape-vine.  A  while 
after  the  boys  were  missing ;  nor  did  they  come  back 
till  the  Minnatarees  had  celebrated  their  death,  and 
the  lying  priest  had,,  as  he  falsely  said,  in  a  vision 
seen  them  inhabitants  of  the  land  of  spirits. 

The  Indians  were  surprised  by  the  return  of  the 
boys.  They  came  back  singing  and  dancing,  and 
were  grown  so  much,  and  looked  so  different  from 
what  they  did  when  they  left  the  cavern,  that  their 
father  and  mother  scarcely  knew  them.  They  were 
sleek  and  fat,  and  when  they  walked  it  was  with  so 
strong  a  step  that  the  hollow  space  rang  with  the 
sound  of  their  feet.  They  were  covered  with  the 
skins  of  animals,  and  had  blankets  of  the  skins  of 
racoons  and  beavers.  They  described  to  the  Indians 
the  pleasures  of  the  upper  world,  and  the  people 
were  delighted  with  their  story.  At  length  they 
resolved  to  leave  their  dull  residence  underground 
for  the  upper  regions.  All  agreed  to  this  except 
the  ground-hog,  the  badger,  and  the  mole,  who  said, 
as  they  had  been  put,  where  they  were,  they  would 
live  and  die  there.  The  rabbit  said  he  would  live 
sometimes  above  and  sometimes  below. 

When  the  Indians  had  determined  to  leave  their 
habitations  underground,  the  Minnatarees  began, 
men,  women,  and  children,  to  clamber  up  the  vine, 
and  one-half  of  them  had  already  reached  the  sur 
face  of  the  earth,  when  a  dire  mishap  involved  the 


36  INDIAN  FOLKLORE. 

remainder  in  a  still  more  desolate  captivity  within 
its  bowels. 

There  was  among  them  a  very  fat  old  woman, 
who  was  heavier  than  any  six  of  her  nation.  No 
thing  would  do  but  she  must  go  up  before  some 
of  her  neighbours.  Away  she  clambered,  but  her 
weight  was  so  great  that  the  vine  broke  with  it, 
and  the  opening,  to  which  it  afforded  the  sole  means 
of  ascending,  closed  upon  her  and  the  rest  of  her 
nation. 


THE  BOY  WHO  SNAKED  THE  SUN. 

AT  the  time  when  the  animals  reigned  on  the  earth 
they  had  killed  all  but  a  girl  and  her  little  brother, 
and  these  two  were  living  in  fear  and  seclusion. 
The  boy  was  a  perfect  pigmy,  never  growing  beyond 
the  stature  of  a  small  infant,  but  the  girl  increased 
with  her  years,  so  that  the  labour  of  providing  food 
and  lodging  devolved  wholly  on  her.  She  went  out 
daily  to  get  wood  for  their  lodge  fire,  and  took  her 
brother  with  her  so  that  no  accident  might  happen 
to  him,  for  he  was  too  little  to  leave  alone — a  big 
bird  might  have  flown  away  with  him.  She  made 
him  a  bow  and  arrows,  and  said  to  him  one  winter 
day — 

"I  will  leave  you  behind  where  I  have  been 
chopping ;  you  must  hide  yourself,  and  you  will  see 
the  gitshee-gitshee-gaun  ai  see-ug,  or  snow-birds, 
come  and  pick  the  worms  out  of  the  wood,  where  I 
have  been  chopping.  Shoot  one  of  them  and  bring 
it  home." 

He  obeyed  her,  and  tried  his  best  to  kill  one,  but 
came  home  unsuccessful.  She  told  him  he  must  not 
despair,  but  try  again  the  next  day.  She  accord- 

37 


38  INDIAN   FOLKLORE. 

ingly  left  him  at  the  place  where  she  got  wood  and 
returned  home.  Towards  nightfall  she  heard  his 
footsteps  on  the  snow,  and  he  came  in  exultingly, 
and  threw  down  one  of  the  birds  he  had  killed. 

"My  sister,"  said  he,  "  I  wish  you  to  skin  it  and 
stretch  the  skin,  and  when  I  have  killed  more  I  will 
have  a  coat  made  out  of  them." 

"  What  shall  we  do  with  the  body  ? "  asked  she, 
for  as  yet  men  had  not  begun  to  eat  animal  food, 
but  lived  on  vegetables  alone. 

"  Cut  it  in  two,"  he  answered,  "  and  season  our 
pottage  with  one-half  of  it  at  a  time." 

She  did  so.  The  boy  continued  his  efforts,  and 
succeeded  in  killing  ten  birds,  out  of  the  skins  of 
which  his  sister  made  him  a  little  coat. 

"  Sister,"  said  he  one  day,  "  are  we  all  alone  in 
the  world  ?  Is  there  nobody  else  living  1 " 

His  sister  told  him  that  they  two  alone  remained ; 
that  the  beings  who  had  killed  all  their  relations 
lived  in  a  certain  quarter,  and  that  he  must  by  no 
means  go  in  that  direction.  This  only  served  to 
inflame  his  curiosity  and  raise  his  ambition,  and  he 
soon  after  took  his  bow  and  arrows  and  went  to  seek 
the  beings  of  whom  his  sister  had  told  him.  After 
walking  a  long  time  and  meeting  nothing  he  became 
tired,  and  lay  down  on  a  knoll  where  the  sun  had 
melted  the  snow.  He  fell  fast  asleep,  and  while 
sleeping  the  sun  beat  so  hot  upon  him  that  it  singed 
and  drew  up  his  birdskin  coat,  so  that  when  he 
awoke  and  stretched  himself,  he  felt,  as  it  were,  bound 
in  it.  He  looked  down  and  saw  the  damage  done, 


THE  BOY  WHO  SNARED  THE  SUN.  39 

and  then  he  flew  into  a  passion,  upbraided  the  sun, 
and  vowed  vengeance  against  it. 

"Do  not  think  you  are  too  high,"  said  he;  "I 
shall  revenge  myself." 

On  coming  home  he  related  his  disaster  to  his 
sister,  and  lamented  bitterly  the  spoiling  of  his  coat. 
He  would  not  eat.  He  lay  down  as  one  that  fasts, 
and  did  not  stir  or  move  his  position  for  ten  days, 
though  his  sister  did  all  she  could  to  arouse  him. 
At  the  end  of  ten  days  he  turned  over,  and  then  lay 
ten  days  on  the  other  side.  Then  he  got  up  and 
told  his  sister  to  make  him  a  snare,  for  he  meant  to 
catch  the  sun.  At  first  she  said  she  had  nothing, 
but  finally  she  remembered  a  little  piece  of  dried 
deer's  sinew  that  her  father  had  left,  and  this  she 
soon  made  into  a  string  suitable  for  a  noose.  The 
moment,  however,  she  showed  it  to  her  brother,  he 
told  her  it  would  not  do,  and  bade  her  get  something 
else.  She  said  she  had  nothing — nothing  at  all.  At 
last  she  thought  of  her  hair,  and  pulling  some  of  it 
out  made  a  string.  Her  brother  again  said  it 
would  not  answer,  and  bade  her,  pettishly,  and  with 
authority,  make  him  a  noose.  She  replied  that 
there  was  nothing  to  make  it  of,  and  went  out  of 
the  lodge.  When  she  was  all  alone  she  said — 

"Neow  obewy  indapin." 

Meanwhile  her  brother  awaited  her,  and  it  was  not 
long  before  she  reappeared  with  some  tiny  cord. 
The  moment  he  saw  it  he  was  delighted. 

"This  will  do,"  he  cried,  and  he  put  the  cord  to 
his  mouth  and  began  pulling  it  through  his  lips,  and 


40  INDIAN   FOLKLORE. 

as  fast  as  he  drew  it  changed  to  a  red  metal  cord  of 
prodigious  length,  which  he  wound  around  his  body 
and  shoulders.  He  then  prepared  himself,  and  set 
out  a  little  after  midnight  that  he  might  catch  the 
sun  before  it  rose.  He  fixed  his  snare  on  a  spot  just 
where  he  thought  the  sun  would  appear ;  and  sure 
enough  he  caught  it,  so  that  it  was  held  fast  in  the 
cord  and  could  not  rise. 

The  animals  who  ruled  the  earth  were  immediately 
put  into  a  great  commotion.  They  had  no  light. 
They  called  a  council  to  debate  the  matter.,  and  to 
appoint  some  one  to  go  and  cut  the  cord — a  very 
hazardous  enterprise,  for  who  dare  go  so  near  to  the 
sun  as  would  be  necessary  ?  The  dormouse,  however, 
undertook  the  task.  At  that  time  the  dormouse 
was  the  largest  animal  in  the  world ;  when  it  stood 
up  it  looked  like  a  mountain.  It  set  out  upon  its 
mission,  and,  when  it  got  to  the  place  where  the  sun 
lay  snared,  its  back  began  to  smoke  and  burn,  so 
intense  was  the  heat,  and  the  top  of  its  carcass  was 
reduced  to  enormous  heaps  of  ashes.  It  succeeded, 
however,  in  cutting  the  cord  with  its  teeth  and  freed 
the  sun,  but  was  reduced  to  a  very  small  size,  and 
has  remained  so  ever  since.  Men  call  it  the  Kug-e- 
been-gwa-kwa. 


THE  MAID  IN  THE  BOX. 

THERE  once  lived  a  woman  called  Monedo  Kway 
(female  spirit  or  prophetess)  on  the  sand  mountains, 
called  The  Sleeping  Bear  of  Lake  Michigan,  who  had 
a  daughter  as  beautiful  as  she  was  modest  and 
discreet.  Everybody  spoke  of  her  beauty,  and  she 
was  so  handsome  that  her  mother  feared  she  would 
be  carried  off,  so  to  prevent  it  she  put  her  in  a  box, 
which  she  pushed  into  the  middle  of  the  lake.  The 
box  was  tied  by  a  long  string  to  a  stake  on  shore, 
and  every  morning  the  mother  pulled  the  box  to 
land,  and,  taking  her  daughter  out  of  it,  combed  her 
hair,  gave  her  food,  and  then  putting  her  again  in 
the  box,  set  her  afloat  on  the  lake. 

One  day  it  chanced  that  a  handsome  young  man 
came  to  the  spot  at  the  moment  the  girl  was  being 
thus  attended  to  by  her  mother.  He  was  struck 
with  her  beauty,  and  immediately  went  home  and 
told  his  love  to  his  uncle,  who  was  a  great  chief  and 
a  powerful  magician. 

"My  nephew,"  replied  the  old  man,  "go  to  the 
mother's  lodge  and  sit  down  in  a  modest  manner 
without  saying  a  word.  You  need  not  ask  her  a 

41 


42  INDIAN  FOLKLORE. 

question,  for  whatever  you  think  she  will  under 
stand,  and  what  she  thinks  in  answer  you  will  under 
stand." 

The  young  man  did  as  he  was  bid.  He  entered 
the  woman's  lodge  and  sat  with  his  head  bent  down 
in  a  thoughtful  manner,  without  uttering  a  word. 
He  then  thought — 

"I  wish  she  would  give  me  her  daughter."  Very 
soon  he  understood  the  mother's  thoughts  in  reply. 

"  Give  you  my  daughter ! "  thought  she.  "You  ! 
no,  indeed  !  my  daughter  shall  never  marry  you  !  " 

The  young  man  went  away  and  reported  the  result 
to  his  uncle. 

"  Woman  without  good  sense  ! "  exclaimed  the  old 
man.  "  Who  is  she  keeping  her  daughter  for  1  Does 
she  think  she  will  marry  the  Mudjikewis  (a  term 
indicating  the  heir  or  successor  to  the  first  in  power)  ? 
Proud  heart !  We  will  try  her  magic  skill,  and  see 
whether  she  can  withstand  our  power." 

He  forthwith  set  himself  to  work,  and  in  a  short 
time  the  pride  and  haughtiness  of  the  mother  was 
made  known  to  all  the  spirits  on  that  part  of  the 
lake,  and  they  met  together  and  resolved  to  exert 
their  power  to  humble  her.  To  do  this  they  deter 
mined  to  raise  a  great  storm  on  the  lake.  The  water 
began  to  roar  and  toss,  and  the  tempest  became  so 
severe  that  the  string  holding  the  box  broke,  and  it 
floated  off  through  the  straits  down  Lake  Huron, 
and  struck  against  the  sandy  shores  at  its  outlet. 
The  place  where  it  struck  was  near  the  lodge  of  a 
decayed  old  magician  called  Ishkwon  Daimeka,  or 


THE   MAID   IN   THE   BOX.  43 

the  keeper  of  the  gate  of  the  lakes.  He  opened  the 
box  and  let  out  the  beautiful  daughter,  whom  he 
took  into  his  lodge  and  made  his  wife. 

When  her  mother  found  that  her  daughter  had 
been  carried  off  by  the  storm,  she  raised  loud  cries 
and  lamented  exceedingly.  This  she  continued  to 
do  for  a  long  time,  and  would  not  be  comforted.  At 
last  the  spirits  began  to  pity  her,  and  determined  to 
raise  another  storm  to  bring  the  daughter  back. 
This  was  even  a  greater  storm  than  the  first.  The 
water  of  the  lake  washed  away  the  ground,  and 
swept  on  to  the  lodge  of  Ishkwon  Daimeka,  whose 
wife,  when  she  saw  the  flood  approaching,  leaped 
into  the  box,  and  the  waves,  carrying  her  off,  landed 
her  at  the  very  spot  where  was  her  mother's  lodge. 

Monedo  Kway  was  overjoyed,  but  when  she  opened 
the  box  she  found  her  daughter,  indeed,  but  her 
beauty  had  almost  all  departed.  However,  she  loved 
her  still,  because  she  was  her  daughter,  and  now 
thought  of  the  young  man  who  had  come  to  seek 
her  in  marriage.  She  sent  a  formal  message  to  him, 
but  he  had  heard  of  all  that  had  occurred,  and  his 
love  for  the  girl  had  died  away. 

"I  marry  your  daughter!"  replied  he.  "Your 
daughter  !  no,  indeed  !  I  shall  never  marry  her ! " 

The  storm  that  brought  the  girl  back  was  so 
strong  that  it  tore  away  a  large  part  of  the  shore  of 
the  lake  and  swept  off  Ishkwon  Daimeka's  lodge, 
the  fragments  of  which,  lodging  in  the  straits,  formed 
those  beautiful  islands  which  are  scattered  in  the 
St.  Clair  and  Detroit  rivers.  As  to  Ishkwon 


44  INDIAN   FOLKLORE. 

Daimeka  himself,  he  was  drowned,  and  his  bones 
lie  buried  under  the  islands.  As  he  was  carried 
away  by  the  waves  on  a  fragment  of  his  lodge, 
the  old  man  was  heard  lamenting  his  fate  in  a 
song. 


THE   SPIEITS  AND   THE  LOVERS. 

AT  the  distance  of  a  woman's  walk  of  a  day  from 
the  mouth  of  the  river,  called  by  the  pale-faces  the 
Whitestone,  in  the  country  of  the  Sioux,  in  the 
middle  of  a  large  plain,  stands  a  lofty  hill  or  mound. 
Its  wonderful  roundness,  together  with  the  circum 
stance  of  its  standing  apart  from  all  other  hills,  like 
a  fir-tree  in  the  midst  of  a  wide  prairie,  or  a  man 
whose  friends  and  kindred  have  all  descended  to  the 
dust,  has  made  it  known  to  all  the  tribes  of  the 
West.  Whether  it  was  created  by  the  Great  Spirit 
or  filled  up  by  the  sons  of  men,  whether  it  was  done 
in  the  morning  of  the  world,  ask  not  me,  for  I  can 
not  tell  you.  Know  it  is  called  by  all  the  tribes  of 
the  land  the  Hill  of  Little  People,  or  the  Mountain 
of  Little  Spirits.  No  gifts  can  induce  an  Indian  to 
visit  it ;  for  why  should  he  incur  the  anger  of  the 
Little  People  who  dwell  in  it,  and,  sacrificed  upon 
the  fire  of  their  wrath,  behold  his  wife  and  children 
no  more  ?  In  all  the  marches  and  counter-marches 
of  the  Indians,  in  all  their  goings  and  returnings, 
in  all  their  wanderings  by  day  or  by  night  to  and 
from  lands  which  lie  beyond  it,  their  paths  are  so 

45 


46  INDIAN   FOLKLORE. 

ordered  that  none  approaches  near  enough  to  disturb 
the  tiny  inhabitants  of  the  hill.  The  memory  of  the 
red-man  of  the  forest  has  preserved  but  one  instance 
when  their  privacy  was  violated,  since  it  was  known 
through  the  tribes  that  they  wished  for  no  inter 
course  with  mortals.  Before  that  time  many  Indians 
were  missing  each  year.  No  one  knew  what  became 
of  them,  but  they  were  gone,  and  left  no  trace  nor 
story  behind.  Valiant  warriors  filled  their  quivers 
with  arrows,  put  new  strings  to  their  bows,  new  shod 
their  moccasins,  and  sallied  out  to  acquire  glory  in 
combat ;  but  there  was  no  wailing  in  the  camp  of  our 
foes :  their  arrows  were  not  felt,  their  shouts  were 
not  heard.  Yet  they  fell  not  by  the  hands  of  our 
foes,  but  perished  we  know  not  how. 

Many  seasons  ago  there  lived  within  the  limits  of 
the  great  council- fire  of  the  Mahas  a  chief  who  was 
renowned  for  his  valour  and  victories  in  the  field, 
his  wisdom  in  the  council,  his  dexterity  and  success 
in  the  chase.  His  name  was  Mahtoree,  or  the  White 
Crane.  He  was  celebrated  throughout  the  vast 
regions  of  the  West,  from  the  Mississippi  to  the 
Hills  of  the  Serpent,  from  the  Missouri  to  the  Plains 
of  Bitter  Frost,  for  all  those  qualities  which  render 
an  Indian  warrior  famous  and  feared. 

In  one  of  the  war  expeditions  of  the  Pawnee 
Mahas  against  the  Burntwood  Tetons,  it  was  the 
good  fortune  of  the  former  to  overcome  and  to  make 
many  prisoners — men,  women,  and  children.  One 
of  the  captives,  Sakeajah,  or  the  Bird-Girl,  a  beauti 
ful  creature  in  the  morning  of  life,  after  being  adopted 


THE   SPIRITS   AND   THE   LOVERS.  47 

into  one  of  the  Mahas  families,  became  the  wife  of 
the  chief  warrior  of  the  nation.  Great  was  the  love 
which  the  White  Crane  had  for  his  wife,  and  it 
grew  yet  stronger  when  she  had  brought  him  four 
sons  and  a  daughter,  Tatokah,  or  the  Antelope. 
She  was  beautiful.  Her  skin  was  fair,  her  eyes  were 
large  arid  bright  as  those  of  the  bison-ox,  and  her 
hair  black,  and  braided  with  beads,  brushed,  as  she 
walked,  the  dew  from  the  flowers  upon  the  prairies. 
Her  temper  was  gentle  and  her  voice  sweet. 

It  may  not  be  doubted  that  the  beautiful  Tatokah 
had  many  lovers ;  but  the  heart  of  the  maiden  was 
touched  by  none  of  the  noble  youths  who  sought 
her.  She  bade  them  all  depart  as  they  came ;  she 
rejected  them  all.  With  the  perverseness  which  is 
often  seen  among  women,  she  had  placed  her  affec 
tions  upon  a  youth  who  had  distinguished  himself 
by  no  valiant  deeds  in  war,  nor  by  industry  or  dex 
terity  in  the  chase.  His  name  had  never  reached 
the  surrounding  nations.  His  own  nation  knew 
him  not,  unless  as  a  weak  and  imbecile  man.  He 
was  poor  in  everything  which  constitutes  the  riches 
of  Indian  life.  Who  had  heard  the  twanging  of 
Karkapaha's  bow  in  the  retreat  of  the  bear,  or  who 
had  beheld  the  war-paint  on  his  cheek  or  brow  ? 
Where  were  the  scalps  or  the  prisoners  that  be 
tokened  his  valour  or  daring  1  No  song  of  valiant 
exploits  had  been  heard  from  his  lips,  for  he  had 
none  to  boast  of — if  he  had  done  aught  becoming  a 
man,  he  had  done  it  when  none  was  by.  The 
beautiful  Tatokah,  who  knew  and  lamented  the 


48  INDIAN   FOLKLORE. 

deficiencies  of  her  lover,  strove  long  to  conquer  her 
passion  without  success.  At  length,  since  her  father 
would  not  agree  to  her  union  with  her  lover,  the 
two  agreed  to  fly  together.  The  night  fixed  came, 
and  they  left  the  village  of  the  Mahas  and  the  lodge 
of  Mahtoree  for  the  wilderness. 

Their  flight  was  not  unmarked,  and  when  the 
father  was  made  acquainted  with  the  disgrace  which 
had  befallen  him,  he  called  his  young  men  around 
him,  and  bade  them  pursue  the  fugitives,  promising 
his  daughter  to  whomsoever  should  slay  the  Karka- 
paha.  Immediately  pursuit  was  made,  and  soon  a 
hundred  eager  youths  were  on  the  track  of  the 
hapless  pair.  With  that  unerring  skill  and  sagacity 
in  discovering  footprints  which  mark  their  race, 
their  steps  were  tracked,  and  themselves  soon  dis 
covered  flying.  What  was  the  surprise  of  the  pur 
suers  when  they  found  that  the  path  taken  by  the 
hapless  pair  would  carry  them  to  the  mountain  of 
little  spirits,  and  that  they  were  sufficiently  in  ad 
vance  to  reach  it  before  they  could  be  overtaken. 
None  of  them  durst  venture  within  the  supposed 
limits,  and  they  halted  till  the  White  Crane  sliould 
be  informed  of  his  daughter  and  her  lover  having 
placed  themselves  under  the  protection  of  the 
spirits. 

In  the  meantime  the  lovers  pursued  their  journey 
towards  the  fearful  residence  of  the  little  people. 
Despair  lent  them  courage  to  perform  an  act  to  which 
the  stoutest  Indian  resolution  had  hitherto  been 
unequal.  They  determined  to  tell  their  tale  to  the 


THE   SPIRITS   AND   THE   LOVERS.  49 

spirits  and  ask  their  protection.  They  were  within 
a  few  feet  of  the  hill  when,  on  a  sudden,  its  brow, 
on  which  no  object  had  till  now  been  visible, 
became  covered  with  little  people,  the  tallest  of 
whom  was  not  higher  than  the  knee  of  the  maiden, 
while  many  of  them — but  these  were  children — were 
of  lower  stature  than  the  squirrel.  Their  voice  was 
sharp  and  quick,  like  the  barking  of  the  prairie  dog. 
A  little  wing  came  out  at  each  shoulder ;  each  had 
a  single  eye,  which  eye  was  to  the  right  in  the  men, 
and  to  the  left  in  the  women,  and  their  feet  stood 
out  at  each  side.  They  were  armed  like  Indians, 
with  tomahawks,  spears,  bows,  and  arrows.  He 
who  appeared  to  be  the  head  chief — for  he  wore  an 
air  of  command,  and  had  the  eagle  feather — came  up 
to  the  fugitives  and  said — 

"  Why  have  you  invaded  the  village  of  our  race 
whose  wrath  has  been  so  fatal  to  your  people  1 
How  dare  you  venture  within  the  limits  of  our  resi 
dence  1  Know  you  not  that  your  lives  are  for 
feited  r 

Tatokah,  for  her  lover  had  less  than  the  heart  of  a 
doe  and  was  speechless,  related  their  story.  She 
told  them  how  they  had  loved,  how  wroth  her 
father  had  been,  how  they  had  stolen  away  and 
been  pursued,  and  concluded  her  tale  of  sorrow  with 
a  flood  of  tears.  The  little  man  who  wore  the  eagle 
feather  appeared  moved  by  what  she  said,  and 
calling  around  him  a  large  number  of  men,  who 
were  doubtless  the  chiefs  and  counsellors  of  the 
nation,  a  long  consultation  took  place.  The  result 


50  INDIAN   FOLKLORE. 

was    a  determination   to   favour   and    protect   the 
lovers. 

At  this  moment  Shongotongo,  or  the  Big  Horse, 
one  of  the  braves  whom  Mahtoree  had  despatched 
in  quest  of  his  daughter,  appeared  in  view  in  pur 
suit  of  the  fugitives.  It  was  not  till  Mahtoree  had 
taxed  his  courage  that  Big  Horse  had  ventured  on 
the  perilous  quest.  He  approached  with  the 
strength  of  heart  and  singleness  of  purpose  which 
accompany  an  Indian  warrior  who  deems  the  eyes 
of  his  nation  upon  him.  When  first  the  brave  was 
discovered  thus  wantonly,  and  with  no  other  pur 
pose  but  the  shedding  of  blood,  intruding  on  the 
dominions  of  the  spirits,  no  words  can  tell  the  rage 
which  appeared  to  possess  their  bosoms.  Secure  in 
the  knowledge  of  their  power  to  repel  the  attacks 
of  every  living  thing,  the  intrepid  Maha  was  per 
mitted  to  advance  within  a  few  steps  of  Karkapaha. 
He  had  just  raised  his  spear  to  strike  the  unmanly 
lover,  when,  all  at  once,  he  found  himself  riveted  to 
the  ground.  His  feet  refused  to  move,  his  hands 
hung  powerless  at  his  side,  his  tongue  refused 
to  utter  a  word.  The  bow  and  arrow  fell  from 
his  hand,  and  his  spear  lay  powerless.  A  little 
child,  not  so  high  as  the  fourth  leaf  of  the  thistle, 
came  and  spat  on  him,  and  a  company  of  the  spirits 
danced  around  him  singing  a  taunting  song.  When 
they  had  thus  finished  their  task  of  preparatory 
torture,  a  thousand  little  spirits  drew  their  bows, 
and  a  thousand  arrows  pierced  his  heart.  In  a 
moment  innumerable  mattocks  were  employed  in 
preparing  him  a  grave,  and  he  was  hidden  from  the 


THE   SPIRITS    AND   THE  LOVERS.  51 

eyes  of  the  living  ere  Tatokah  could  have  thrice 
counted  over  the  fingers  of  her  hand. 

When  this  was  done,  the  chief  of  the  little  spirits 
called  Karkapaha  before  him,  and  said — 

"  Maha,  you  have  the  heart  of  a  doe.  You  would 
fly  from  a  roused  wren.  We  have  not  spared  you 
because  you  deserve  to  be  spared,  but  because  the 
maiden  loves  you.  It  is  for  this  purpose  that  we 
will  give  you  the  heart  of  a  man,  that  you  may 
return  to  the  village  of  the  Mahas,  and  find  favour 
in  the  eyes  of  Mahtoree  and  the  braves  of  the 
nation.  We  will  take  away  your  cowardly  spirit, 
and  will  give  you  the  spirit  of  the  warrior  whom  we 
slew,  whose  heart  was  firm  as  a  rock.  Sleep,  man 
of  little  soul,  and  wake  to  be  better  worthy  the  love 
of  the  beautiful  Antelope." 

Then  a  deep  sleep  came  over  the  Maha  lover. 
How  long  he  slept  he  knew  not,  but  when  he  woke 
he  felt  at  once  that  a  change  had  taken  place  in  his 
feelings. and  temper.  The  first  thought  that  came 
to  his  mind  was  of  a  bow  and  arrow,  the  second  was 
of  the  beautiful  maiden  who  lay  sleeping  at  his  side. 
The  little  spirits  had  disappeared — not  a  solitary 
being  of  the  many  thousands  who,  but  a  few 
minutes  before,  had  filled  the  air  with  their  dis 
cordant  cries  was  now  to  be  seen  or  heard.  At  the 
feet  of  Karkapaha  lay  a  tremendous  bow,  larger 
than  any  warrior  ever  yet  used,  a  sheaf  of  arrows  of 
proportionate  size,  and  a  spear  of  a  weight  which  no 
Maha  could  wield.  Karkapaha  drew  the  bow  as  an 
Indian  boy  bends  a  willow  twig,  and  the  spear 


52  INDIAN   FOLKLORE. 

seemed  in  his  hand  but  a  reed  or  a  feather.  The 
shrill  war-whoop  burst  unconsciously  from  his  lips, 
and  his  nostrils  seemed  dilated  with  the  fire  and 
impatience  of  a  newly-awakened  courage.  The 
heart  of  the  fond  Indian  girl  dissolved  in  tears  when 
she  saw  these  proofs  of  strength  and  these  evidences 
of  spirit  which,  she  knew,  if  they  were  coupled  with 
valour — and  how  could  she  doubt  the  completeness 
of  the  gift  to  effect  the  purposes  of  the  giver? — 
would  thaw  the  iced  feelings  of  her  father  and  tune 
his  heart  to  the  song  of  forgiveness.  Yet  it  was  not 
without  many  fears,  tears,  and  misgivings  on  the 
part  of  the  maiden  that  they  began  their  journey  to 
the  Mahas  village.  The  lover,  now  a  stranger  to 
fear,  used  his  endeavours  to  quiet  the  beautiful 
Tatokah,  and  in  some  measure  succeeded.  Upon 
finding  that  his  daughter  and  her  lover  had  gone  to 
the  Hill  of  the  Spirits,  and  that  Shongotongo  did 
not  return  from  his  perilous  adventure,  the  chief  of 
the  Mahas  had  recalled  his  braves  from  the  pursuit, 
and  was  listening  to  the  history  of  the  pair,  as  far  as 
the  returned  warriors  were  acquainted  with  it,  when 
his  daughter  and  her  lover  made  their  appearance. 
With  a  bold  and  fearless  step  the  once  faint-hearted 
Karkapaha  walked  up  to  the  offended  father,  and, 
folding  his  arms  upon  his  breast,  stood  erect  as  a 
pine,  and  motionless  as  that  tree  when  the  winds  of 
the  earth  are  chained.  It  was  the  first  time  that 
Karkapaha  had  ever  looked  on  angry  men  without 
trembling,  and  a  demeanour  so  unusual  in  him 
excited  universal  surprise. 


THE   SPIRITS   AND   THE   LOVERS.  -    53 

"  Karkapaha  is  a  thief,"  said  the  White  Crane. 

"  It  is  the  father  of  Tatokah  that  says  it,"  answered 
the  lover,  "else  would  Karkapaha  say  it  was  the 
song  of  a  bird  that  has  flown  over." 

"My  warriors  say  it." 

"  Your  warriors  are  singing-birds  ;  they  are  wrens. 
Karkapaha  says  they  do  not  speak  the  truth.  Kar 
kapaha  has  a  brave  heart  and  the  strength  of  a  bear. 
Let  the  braves  try  him.  He  has  thrown  away  the 
woman's  heart,  and  become  a  man." 

"  Karkapaha  is  changed,"  said  the  chief  thought 
fully,  "  but  how  and  when  ? " 

"The  Little  Spirits  of  the  mountain  have  given 
him  a  new  soul.  Bid  your  braves  draw  this  bow. 
Bid  them  poise  this  spear.  Their  eyes  say  they  can 
do  neither.  Then  is  Karkapaha  the  strong  man  of 
his  tribe  1 "  As  he  said  this  he  flourished  the  pon 
derous  spear  over  his  head  as  a  man  would  poise  a 
reed,  and  drew  the  bow  as  a  child  would  bend  a 
twig. 

"Karkapaha  is  the  husband  of  Tatokah,"  said 
Mahtoree,  springing  to  his  feet,  and  he  gave  the 
maiden  to  her  lover. 

The  traditionary  lore  of  the  Mahas  is  full  of  the 
exploits,  both  in  war  and  in  the  chase,  of  Karkapaha, 
who  was  made  a  man  by  the  Spirits  of  the  Mountain. 


THE  WONDERFUL   ROD. 

THE  Choctaws  had  for  many  years  found  a  home  in 
regions  beyond  the  Mountains  of  Snow,  far  away  to 
the  west  of  the  Mississippi.  They,  however,  decided, 
for  some  reason  or  other,  to  leave  the  place  in  whicli 
they  dwelt,  and  the  question  then  arose  in  what 
direction  they  should  journey.  Now,  there  was  a 
jossakeed  (priest)  who  had  a  wonderful  rod,  and 
he  said  that  he  would  lead  them. 

For  many  years,  therefore,  they  travelled,  being 
guided  by  him.  He  walked  before  them  bearing 
the  rod,  and  when  night  was  come  he  put  it  upright 
in  the  earth,  and  the  people  encamped  round  it.  In 
the  morning  they  looked  to  see  in  what  direction 
the  rod  pointed,  for  each  night  the  rod  left  its 
upright  position,  and  inclined  one  way  or  another. 
Day  after  day  the  rod  was  found  pointing  to  the 
east,  and  thither  the  Choctaws  accordingly  bent 
their  steps. 

"  You  must  travel,"  said  the  jossakeed,  "  as  long 
as  the  rod  directs  you  pointing  to  the  direction  in 
which  you  must  go,  but  when  the  rod  ceases  to 
point,  and  stands  upright,  then  you  must  live 
there." 

54 


THE   WONDERFUL   EOD.  55 

So  the  people  went  on  until  they  came  to  a  hill, 
where  they  camped,  having  first  put  up  the  rod  so 
that  it  did  not  lean  at  all.  In  the  morning,  when 
they  went  to  see  which  direction  the  rod  pointed 
out  for  them  to  take,  they  found  it  upright,  and 
from  it  there  grew  branches  bearing  green  leaves. 
Then  they  said — 

"We  will  stop  here.;> 

So  that  became  the  centre  of  the  land  of  the 
Choctaws. 


THE  FUNEKAL  FIRE. 

FOR  several  nights  after  the  interment  of  a  Chip- 
pewa  a  fire  is  kept  burning  upon  the  grave.  This 
fire  is  lit  in  the  evening,  and  carefully  supplied  with 
small  sticks  of  dry  wood,  to  keep  up  a  bright  but 
small  fire.  It  is  kept  burning  for  several  hours, 
generally  until  the  usual  hour  of  retiring  to  rest,  and 
then  suffered  to  go  out.  The  fire  is  renewed  for  four 
nights,  and  sometimes  for  longer.  The  person  who 
performs  this  pious  office  is  generally  a  near  relative 
of  the  deceased,  or  one  who  has  been  long  intimate 
with  him.  The  following  tale  is  related  as  showing 
the  origin  of  the  custom. 

A  small  war  party  of  Chippewas  encountered 
their  enemies  upon  an  open  plain,  where  a  severe 
battle  was  fought.  Their  leader  was  a  brave  and 
distinguished  warrior,  but  he  never  acted  with 
greater  bravery,  or  more  distinguished  himself  by 
personal  prowess,  than  on  this  occasion.  After  turn 
ing  the  tide  of  battle  against  his  enemies,  while 
shouting  for  victory,  he  received  an  arrow  in  his 
breast,  and  fell  upon  the  plain.  No  warrior  thus 
killed  is  ever  buried,  and  according  to  ancient 

56 


THE  FUNERAL  FIRE.  57 

custom,  the  chief  was  placed  in  a  sitting  posture 
upon  the  field,  his  back  supported  by  a  tree,  and 
his  face  turned  towards  the  direction  in  which  his 
enemies  had  fled.  His  headdress  and  equipment 
were  accurately  adjusted  as  if  he  were  living,  and 
his  bow  leaned  against  his  shoulder.  In  this  posture 
his  companions  left  him.  That  he  was  dead  ap 
peared  evident  to  all,  but  a  strange  thing  had  hap 
pened.  Although  deprived  of  speech  and  motion, 
the  chief  heard  distinctly  all  that  was  said  by  his 
friends.  He  heard  them  lament  his  death  without 
having  the  power  to  contradict  it,  and  he  felt  their 
touch  as  they  adjusted  his  posture,  without  having 
the  power  to  reciprocate  it.  His  anguish,  when  he 
felt  himself  thus  abandoned,  was  extreme,  and  his 
wish  to  follow  his  friends  on  their  return  home  so 
completely  filled  his  mind,  as  he  saw  them  one  after 
another  take  leave  of  him  and  depart,  that  with  a 
terrible  effort  he  arose  and  followed  them.  His 
form,  however,  was  invisible  to  them,  and  this  aroused 
in  him  surprise,  disappointment,  and  rage,  which  by 
turns  took  possession  of  him.  He  followed  their 
track,  however,  with  great  diligence.  Wherever 
they  went  he  went,  when  they  walked  he  walked, 
when  they  ran  he  ran,  when  they  encamped  he 
stopped  with  them,  when  they  slept  he  slept,  when 
they  awoke  he  awoke.  In  short,  he  mingled  in  all 
their  labours  and  toils,  but  he  was  excluded  from  all 
their  sources  of  refreshment,  except  that  of  sleeping, 
and  from  the  pleasures  of  participating  in  their  con 
versation,  for  all  that  he  said  received  no  notice. 


58  INDIAN  FOLKLORE. 

"Is  it  possible,"  he  cried,  "that  you  do  not  see 
me,  that  you  do  not  hear  me,  that  you  do  not  under 
stand  me1?  Will  you  suffer  me  to  bleed  to  death 
without  offering  to  stanch  my  wounds  ?  Will  you 
permit  me  to  starve  while  you  eat  around  me  1  Have 
those  whom  I  have  so  often  led  to  war  so  soon  for 
gotten  me'J  Is  there  no  one  who  recollects  me,  or 
who  will  offer  me  a  morsel  of  food  in  my  distress  ?" 

Thus  he  continued  to  upbraid  his  friends  at  every 
stage  of  the  journey,  but  no  one  seemed  to  hear  his 
words.  If  his  voice  was  heard  at  all,  it  was  mis 
taken  for  the  rustling  of  the  leaves  in  the  wind. 

At  length  the  returning  party  reached  their  vil 
lage,  and  their  women  and  children  came  out,  accord 
ing  to  custom,  to  welcome  their  return  and  proclaim 
their  praises. 

"  Kumaudjeewug  !  Kumaudjeevvug  !  Kumaudjee- 
wug !  they  have  met,  fought,  and  conquered  ! "  was 
shouted  by  every  mouth,  and  the  words  resounded 
through  the  most  distant  parts  of  the  village.  Those 
who  had  lost  friends  came  eagerly  to  inquire  their 
fate,  and  to  know  whether  they  had  died  like  men. 
The  aged  father  consoled  himself  for  the  loss  of  his 
son  with  the  reflection  that  he  had  fallen  manfully, 
and  the  widow  half  forgot  her  sorrow  amid  the 
praises  that  were  uttered  of  the  bravery  of  her  hus 
band.  The  hearts  of  the  youths  glowed  with  martial 
ardour  as  they  heard  these  flattering  praises,  and 
the  children  joined  in  the  shouts,  of  which  they 
scarcely  knew  the  meaning.  Amidst  all  this  uproar 
and  bustle  no  one  seemed  conscious  of  the  presence 


THE  FUNERAL  FIRE.  59 

of  the  warrior-chief.  He  heard  many  inquiries  made 
respecting  his  fate.  He  heard  his  companions  tell 
how  he  had  fought,  conquered,  and  fallen,  pierced 
by  an  arrow  through  his  breast,  and  how  he  had 
been  left  behind  among  the  slain  on  the  field  of 
battle. 

"  It  is  not  true,"  declared  the  angry  chief,  "  that 
I  was  killed  and  left  upon  the  field  !  I  am  here.  I 
live ;  I  move ;  see  me ;  touch  me.  I  shall  again 
raise  my  spear  in  battle,  and  take  my  place  in  the 
feast." 

Nobody,  however,  seemed  conscious  of  his  pre 
sence,  and  his  voice  was  mistaken  for  the  whispering 
of  the  wind. 

He  now  walked  to  his  own  lodge,  and  there  he 
found  his  wife  tearing  her  hair  and  lamenting  over 
his  fate.  He  endeavoured  to  undeceive  her,  but  she, 
like  the  others,  appeared  to  be  insensible  of  his  pre 
sence,  and  not  to  hear  his  voice.  She  sat  in  a 
despairing  manner,  with  her  head  reclining  on  her 
hands.  The  chief  asked  her  to  bind  up  his  wounds, 
but  she  made  no  reply.  He  placed  his  mouth  close 
to  her  ear  and  shouted — 

"  I  am  hungry,  give  me  some  food  ! " 

The  wife  thought  she  heard  a  buzzing  in  her  ear, 
and  remarked  it  to  one  who  sat  by.  The  enraged 
husband  now  summoning  all  his  strength,  struck  her 
a  blow  on  the  forehead.  His  wife  raised  her  hand  to 
her  head,  and  said  to  her  friend — 

"I  feel  a  slight  shooting  pain  in  my  head." 

Foiled  thus   in  every  attempt  to  make   himself 


60  INDIAN  FOLKLORE. 

known,  the  warrior-chief  began  to  reflect  upon  what 
he  had  heard  in  his  youth,  to  the  effect  that  the 
spirit  was  sometimes  permitted  to  leave  the  body 
and  wander  about.  He  concluded  that  possibly  his 
body  might  have  remained  upon  the  field  of  battle, 
while  his  spirit  only  accompanied  his  returning 
friends.  He  determined  to  return  to  the  field, 
although  it  was  four  days'  journey  away.  He  accord 
ingly  set  out  upon  his  way.  For  three  days  he 
pursued  his  way  without  meeting  anything  un 
common;  but  on  the  fourth,  towards  evening,  as  he 
came  to  the  skirts  of  the  battlefield,  he  saw  a  fire  in 
the  path  before  him.  He  walked  to  one  side  to 
avoid  stepping  into  it,  but  the  fire  also  changed  its 
position,  and  was  still  before  him.  He  then  went 
in  another  direction,  but  the  mysterious  fire  still 
crossed  his  path,  and  seemed  to  bar  his  entrance  to 
the  scene  of  the  conflict.  In  short,  whichever  way 
he  took,  the  fire  was  still  before  him, — no  expedient 
seemed  to  avail  him. 

"  Thou  demon ! "  he  exclaimed  at  length,  "  why 
dost  thou  bar  my  approach  to  the  field  of  battle  1 
Knowest  thou  not  that  I  am  a  spirit  also,  and  that  I 
seek  again  to  enter  my  body  1  Dost  thou  presume 
that  I  shall  return  without  effecting  my  object1? 
Know  that  I  have  never  been  defeated  by  the 
enemies  of  my  nation,  and  will  not  be  defeated  by 
thee ! " 

So  saying,  he  made  a  sudden  effort  and  jumped 
through  the  flame.  No  sooner  had  he  done  so  than 
he  found  himself  sitting  on  the  ground,  with  his 


THE  FUNERAL  FIRE.  61 

back  supported  by  a  tree,  his  bow  leaning  against 
his  shoulder,  all  his  warlike  dress  and  arms  upon 
his  body,  just  as  they  had  been  left  by  his  friends 
on  the  day  of  battle.  Looking  up  he  beheld  a  large 
canicu,  or  war  eagle,  sitting  in  the  tree  above  his 
head.  He  immediately  recognised  this  bird  to  be 
the  same  as  he  had  once  dreamt  of  in  his  youth — 
the  one  he  had  chosen  as  his  guardian  spirit,  or  per 
sonal  manito.  This  eagle  had  carefully  watched 
his  body  and  prevented  other  ravenous  birds  from 
touching  it. 

The  chief  got  up  and  stood  upon  his  feet,  but  he 
felt  himself  weak  and  much  exhausted.  The  blood 
upon  his  wound  had  stanched  itself,  and  he  now 
bound  it  up.  He  possessed  a  knowledge  of  such 
roots  as  have  healing  properties,  and  these  he  care 
fully  sought  in  the  woods.  Having  found  some,  he 
pounded  some  of  them  between  stones  and  applied 
them  externally.  Others  he  chewed  and  swallowed. 
In  a  short  time  he  found  himself  so  much  recovered 
as  to  be  able  to  commence  his  journey,  but  he  suf 
fered  greatly  from  hunger,  not  seeing  any  large 
animals  that  he  might  kill.  However,  he  succeeded 
in  killing  some  small  birds  with  his  bow  and  arrow, 
and  these  he  roasted  before  a  fire  at  night. 

In  this  way  he  sustained  himself  until  he  came 
to  a  river  that  separated  his  wife  and  friends  from 
him.  He  stood  upon  the  bank  and  gave  that  pecu 
liar  whoop  which  is  a  signal  of  the  return  of  a  friend. 
The  sound  was  immediately  heard,  and  a  canoe  was 
despatched  tobring  him  over,  and  in  a  short  time, 


62  INDIAN  FOLKLORE. 

amidst  the  shouts  of  his  friends  and  relations,  who 
thronged  from  every  side  to  see  the  arrival,  the 
warrior-chief  was  landed. 

When  the  first  wild  bursts  of  wonder  and  joy  had 
subsided,  and  some  degree  of  quiet  had  been  re 
stored  to  the  village,  he  related  to  his  people  the 
account  of  his  adventures.  He  concluded  his  narra 
tive  by  telling  them  that  it  is  pleasing  to  the  spirit 
of  a  deceased  person  to  have  a  fire  built  upon  the 
grave  for  four  nights  after  his  burial ;  that  it  is  four 
days'  journey  to  the  land  appointed  for  the  residence 
of  the  spirits  ;  that  in  its  journey  thither  the  spirit 
stands  in  need  of  a  fire  every  night  at  the  place  of 
its  encampment ;  and  that  if  the  friends  kindle  this 
fire  upon  the  spot  where  the  body  is  laid,  the  spirit 
has  the  benefit  of  its  light  and  warmth  on  its  path, 
while  if  the  friends  neglect  to  do  this,  the  spirit  is 
subjected  to  the  irksome  task  of  making  its  own  fire 
each  night. 


THE  LEGEND  OF  0-NA-WUT-A-QUT-O. 

A  LONG  time  ago  there  lived  an  aged  Odjibwa  and 
his  wife  on  the  shores  of  Lake  Huron.  They  had 
an  only  son,  a  very  beautiful  boy,  named  0-na-wut- 
a-qut-o,  or  He  that  catches  the  clouds.  The  family 
were  of  the  totem  of  the  beaver.  The  parents  were 
very  proud  of  their  son,  and  wished  to  make  him  a 
celebrated  man;  but  when  he  reached  the  proper- 
age  he  would  not  submit  to  the  We-koon-de-win,  or 
fast.  When  this  time  arrived  they  gave  him  char 
coal  instead  of  his  breakfast,  but  he  would  not 
blacken  his  face.  If  they  denied  him  food  he  sought 
bird's  eggs  along  the  shore,  or  picked  up  the  heads 
of  fish  that  had  been  cast  away,  and  broiled  them. 
One  day  they  took  away  violently  the  food  he  had 
prepared,  and  cast  him  some  coals  in  place  of  it. 
This  act  decided  him.  He  took  the  coals  and  black 
ened  his  face  and  went  out  of  the  lodge.  He  did 
not  return,  but  lay  down  without  to  sleep.  As  he 
lay,  a  very  beautiful  girl  came  down  from  the  clouds 
and  stood  by  his  side. 

"  0-na-wut-a-qut-o,"  she  said,  "  I  am  come  for  you. 
Follow  in  my  footsteps." 

63 


64  INDIAN  FOLKLORE. 

The  young  man  rose  and  did  as  he  was  bid.  Pre 
sently  he  found  himself  ascending  above  the  tops  of 
the  trees,  and  gradually  he  mounted  up  step  by  step 
into  the  air,  and  through  the  clouds.  At  length 
his  guide  led  him  through  an  opening,  and  he  found 
himself  standing  with  her  on  a  beautiful  plain. 

A  path  led  to  a  splendid  lodge,  into  which  0-na- 
wut-a-qut-o  followed  his  guide.  It  was  large,  and 
divided  into  two  parts.  At  one  end  he  saw  bows 
and  arrows,  clubs  and  spears,  and  various  warlike 
instruments  tipped  with  silver.  At  the  other  end 
were  things  exclusively  belonging  to  women.  This 
was  the  house  of  his  fair  guide,  and  he  saw  that  she 
had  on  a  frame  a  broad  rich  belt  of  many  colours 
that  she  was  weaving. 

"My  brother  is  coming,"  she  said,  "and  I  must 
hide  you." 

Putting  him  in  one  corner  she  spread  the  belt  over 
him,  and  presently  the  brother  came  in  very  richly 
dressed,  and  shining  as  if  he  had  points  of  silver  all 
over  him.  He  took  down  from  the  wall  a  splendid 
pipe,  and  a  bag  in  which  was  a-pa-ko-ze-gun,  or 
smoking  mixture.  When  he  had  finished  smoking, 
he  laid  his  pipe  aside,  and  said  to  his  sister — 

"  Nemissa"  (elder  sister),  "when  will  you  quit  these 
practices  ?  Do  you  forget  that  the  greatest  of  the 
spirits  has  commanded  that  you  shall  not  take  away 
the  children  from  below  1  Perhaps  you  think  you 
have  concealed  0-na-wut-a-qut-o,  but  do  I  not  know 
of  his  coming  ?  If  you  would  not  offend  me,  send 
him  back  at  once." 


THE  LEGEND  OF  O-NA-WUT-A-QUT-O.  65 

These  words  did  not,  however,  alter  his  sister's 
purpose.  She  would  not  send  him  back,  and  her 
brother,  finding  that  she  was  determined,  called  0-na- 
wut-a-qut-o  from  his  hiding-place. 

"  Come  out  of  your  concealment,"  said  he,  "  and 
walk  about  and  amuse  yourself.  You  will  grow 
hungry  if  you  remain  there." 

At  these  words  0-na-wut-a-qut-o  came  forth  from 
under  the  belt,  and  the  brother  presented  a  bow  and 
arrows,  with  a  pipe  of  red  stone,  richly  ornamented, 
to  him.  In  this  way  he  gave  his  consent  to  0-na- 
wut-a-qut-o 's  marriage  with  his  sister,  and  from  that 
time  the  youth  and  the  girl  became  husband  and 
wife. 

O-na-wut-a-qut-o  found  everything  exceedingly 
fair  and  beautiful  around  him,  but  he  found  no  other 
people  besides  his  wife  and  her  brother.  There  were 
flowers  on  the  plains,  there  were  bright  and  spark 
ling  streams,  there  were  green  valleys  and  pleasant 
trees,  there  were  gay  birds  and  beautiful  animals, 
very  different  from  those  he  had  been  accustomed 
to.  There  was  also  day  and  night  as  on  the  earth, 
but  he  observed  that  every  morning  the  brother 
regularly  left  the  lodge  and  remained  absent  all  day, 
and  every  evening  his  sister  departed,  but  generally 
for  only  a  part  of  the  night. 

0-na-wut-a-qut-o  was  curious  to  solve  this  mys 
tery,  and  obtained  the  brother's  consent  to  accom 
pany  him  in  one  of  his  daily  journeys.  They 
travelled  over  a  smooth  plain  which  seemed  to 
stretch  to  illimitable  distances  all  around.  At 

Indian.  ™ 


06  INDIAN  FOLKLORE. 

length  0-na-wut-a-qut-o  felt  the  gnawings  of  hunger 
and  asked  his  companion  if  there  was  no  game 
about. 

"  Patience,  my  brother,"  replied  he ;  "  we  shall 
soon  reach  the  spot  where  I  eat  my  dinner,  and  you 
will  then  see  how  I  am  provided." 

After  walking  on  a  long  time  they  came  to  a  place 
where  several  fine  mats  were  spread,  and  there  they 
sat  down  to  refresh  themselves.  At  this  place  there 
was  a  hole  in  the  sky  and  0-na-wut-a-qut-o,  at  his 
companion's  request,  looked  through  it  down  upon 
the  earth.  He  saw  below  the  great  lakes  and  the 
villages  of  the  Indians.  In  one  place  he  saw  a  war- 
party  stealing  on  the  camp  of  their  enemies.  In 
another  he  saw  feasting  and  dancing.  On  a  green 
plain  some  young  men  were  playing  at  ball,  and 
along  the  banks  of  a  stream  were  women  employed 
in  gathering  the  a-puk-wa  for  mats. 

"  Do  you  see,"  asked  the  brother,  "  that  group  of 
children  playing  beside  a  lodge  1  Observe  that 
beautiful  and  active  lad,"  said  he,  at  the  same  time 
darting  something  from  his  hand.  The  child  im 
mediately  fell  on  the  ground,  and  was  carried  by  his 
companions  into  the  lodge. 

0-na-wut-a-qut-o  and  his  companion  watched  and 
saw  the  people  below  gathering  about  the  lodge. 
They  listened  to  the  she-she-gwau  of  the  meeta,  to 
the  song  he  sang  asking  that  the  child's  life  might 
be  spared.  To  this  request  0-na-wut-a-qut-o's  com 
panion  made  answer — 

"  Send  me  up  the  sacrifice  of  a  white  dog." 


THE  LEGEND  OF  O-NA-WUT-A-QUT-O.  67 

A  feast  was  immediately  ordered  by  the  parents 
of  the  child.  The  white  dog  was  killed,  his  carcass 
was  roasted,  all  the  wise  men  and  medicine-men  of 
the  village  assembling  to  witness  the  ceremony. 

"  There  are  many  below,"  said  O-na-wut-a-qut-o's 
companion,  "  whom  you  call  great  in  medical  skill. 
They  are  so,  because  their  ears  are  open ;  and  they 
are  able  to  succeed,  because  when  I  call  they  hear 
rny  voice.  When  I  have  struck  one  with  sickness 
they  direct  the  people  to  look  to  me,  and  when  they 
make  me  the  offering  I  ask,  I  remove  my  hand  from 
off  the  sick  person  and  he  becomes  well." 

While  he  was  saying  this,  the  feast  below  had 
been  served.  Then  the  master  of  the  feast  said — 

"  We  send  this  to  thee,  Great  Manito,"  and  im 
mediately  the  roasted  animal  came  up.  Thus  0-na- 
wut-a-qut-o  and  his  companion  got  their  dinner,  and 
after  they  had  eaten  they  returned  to  the  lodge  by 
a  different  path. 

In  this  manner  they  lived  for  some  time,  but  at 
last  the  youth  got  weary  of  the  life.  He  thought  of 
his  friends,  and  wished  to  go  back  to  them.  He 
could  not  forget  his  native  village  and  his  father's 
lodge,  and  he  asked  his  wife's  permission  to  return. 
After  some  persuasion  she  consented. 

"  Since  you  are  better  pleased,"  she  said,  "  with 
the  cares  and  ills  and  poverty  of  the  world,  than 
with  the  peaceful  delights  of  the  sky  and  its  bound 
less  prairies,  go.  I  give  you  my  permission,  and 
since  I  have  brought  you  hither  I  will  conduct  you 
back.  Eemember,  however,  that  you  are  still  my 


68  INDIAN  FOLKLORE. 

husband.  I  hold  a  chain  in  my  hand  by  which  I 
can,  whenever  I  will,  draw  you  back  to  me.  My 
power  over  you  will  be  in  no  way  diminished.  Be 
ware,  therefore,  how  you  venture  to  take  a  wife 
among  the  people  below.  Should  you  ever  do  so, 
you  will  feel  what  a  grievous  thing  it  is  to  arouse 
my  anger." 

As  she  uttered  these  words  her  eyes  sparkled,  and 
she  drew  herself  up  with  a  majestic  air.  In  the 
same  moment  0-na-wut-a-qut-o  awoke.  He  found 
himself  on  the  ground  near  his  father's  lodge,  on  the 
very  spot  where  he  had  thrown  himself  down  to 
sleep.  Instead  of  the  brighter  beings  of  a  higher 
world,  he  found  around  him  his  parents  and  their 
friends.  His  mother  told  him  that  he  had  been 
absent  a  year.  For  some  time  0-na-wut-a-qut-o 
remained  gloomy  and  silent,  but  by  degrees  he 
recovered  his  spirits,  and  he  began  to  doubt  the 
reality  of  all  he  had  seen  and  heard  above.  At  last 
he  even  ventured  to  marry  a  beautiful  girl  of  his 
own  tribe.  But  within  four  days  she  died.  Still 
he  was  forgetful  of  his  first  wife's  command,  and  he 
married  again.  Then  one  night  he  left  his  lodge,  to 
which  he  never  returned.  His  wife,  it  is  believed, 
recalled  him  to  the  sky,  where  he  still  dwells,  walk 
ing  the  vast  plains. 


MANABOZHO  IN  THE  FISH'S  STOMACH. 

ONE  day  Manabozho  said  to  his  grandmother — 

"  Noko,  get  cedar  bark  and  make  me  a  line  whilst 
I  make  a  canoe." 

When  all  was  ready  he  went  out  to  the  middle  of 
the  lake  a-fishing. 

"  Me-she-nah-ma-gwai  (king-fish),"  said  he,  letting 
down  his  line,  "  take  hold  of  my  bait." 

He  kept  repeating  these  words  some  time  ;  at  last 
the  king-fish  said — 

"  What  a  trouble  Manabozho  is !  Here,  trout,  take 
hold  of  his  line." 

The  trout  did  as  he  was  bid,  and  Manabozho  drew 
up  his  line,  the  trout's  weight  being  so  great  that  the 
canoe  was  nearly  overturned.  Till  he  saw  the  trout 
Manabozho  kept  crying  out — 

"  Wha-ee-he  !  wha-ee-he  ! " 

As  soon  as  he  saw  him  he  said — 

"  Why  did  you  take  hold  of  my  hook]  Esa,  esa! 
shame,  shame  !  you  ugly  fish." 

The  trout,  being  thus  rebuked,  let  go. 

Manabozho  let  down  his  line  again  into  the  water, 
saying — 


70  INDIAN    FOLKLORE. 

"King-fish,  take  hold  of  my  line." 

"  What  a  trouble  Manabozho  is  ! "  cried  the  king- 
fish.  "  Sun-fish,  take  hold  of  his  line." 

The  sun-fish  did  as  he  was  bid,  and  Manabozho 
drew  him  up,  crying  as  he  did  so — 

"  Wha-ee-he  !  wha-ee-he  ! "  while  the  canoe  turned 
in  swift  circles. 

When  he  saw  the  sun-fish,  he  cried — 

"  Esa,  esa  !  you  odious  fish  !  why  did  you  dirty 
my  hook  by  taking  it  in  your  mouth  1  Let  go,  I  say, 
let  go." 

The  sun-fish  did  as  he  was  bid,  and  on  his  return 
to  the  bottom  of  the  lake  told  the  king-fish  what 
Manabozho  had  said.  Just  then  the  bait  was  let 
down  again  near  to  the  king,  and  Manabozho  was 
heard  crying  out — 

"  Me-she-nah-ma-gwai,  take  hold  of  my  hook." 

The  king-fish  did  so,  and  allowed  himself  to  be 
dragged  to  the  surface,  which  he  had  no  sooner 
reached  than  he  swallowed  Manabozho  and  his  canoe 
at  one  gulp.  When  Manabozho  came  to  himself  he 
found  he  wa".  in  his  canoe  in  the  fish's  stomach.  He 
now  began  to  think  how  he  should  escape.  Looking 
about  him,  he  saw  his  war-club  in  his  canoe,  and  with 
it  he  immediately  struck  the  heart  of  the  fish.  Then 
he  felt  as  though  the  fish  was  moving  with  great 
velocity.  The  king-fish  observed  to  his  friends  — 

"I  feel  very  unwell  for  having  swallowed  that 
nasty  fellow  Manabozho." 

At  that  moment  he  received  another  more  severe 
blow  on  the  heart.  Manabozho  thought,  "If  I  am 


MANABOZHO   IN   THE   FISH'S   STOMACH.  71 

thrown  up  in  the  middle  of  the  lake  I  shall  be 
drowned,  so  I  must  prevent  it."  So  he  drew  his 
canoe  and  placed  it  across  the  fish's  throat,  and  just 
as  he  had  finished  doing  this  the  king-fish  tried  to 
cast  him  out. 

Manabozho  now  found  that  he  had  a  companion 
with  him.  This  was  a  squirrel  that  had  been  in  his 
canoe.  The  squirrel  helped  him  to  place  the  canoe 
in  the  proper  position,  and  Manabozho,  being  grateful 
to  it,  said — 

"For  the  future  you  shall  be  called  Ajidanneo 
(animal  tail)." 

Then  he  recommenced  his  attack  on  the  king-fish's 
heart,  and  by  repeated  blows  he  at  last  succeeded  in 
killing  him.  He  could  tell  that  he  had  effected  this 
by  the  stoppage  of  the  fish's  motion,  and  he  could 
also  hear  the  body  beating  against  the  shore. 
Manabozho  waited  a  day  to  see  what  would  happen. 
Then  he  heard  birds  scratching  on  the  body,  and  all 
at  once  the  rays  of  light  broke  in.  He  could  now 
see  the  heads  of  the  gulls,  which  were  looking  in  at 
the  opening  they  had  made. 

"  Oh  ! "  cried  Manabozho,  "  my  younger  brothers, 
make  the  opening  larger,  so  that  I  can  get  out."  The 
gulls  then  told  one  another  that  Manabozho  was 
inside  the  fish,  and,  setting  to  work  at  once  to  enlarge 
the  hole,  they,  in  a  short  time,  set  him  free.  After 
he  got  out  Manabozho  said  to  the  gulls — 

"For  the  future  you  shall  be  called  Kayoshk 
(noble  scratchers),  for  your  kindness  to  me." 


THE  SUN  AND  THE  MOON. 

THERE  were  once  ten  brothers  who  hunted  together, 
and  at  night  they  occupied  the  same  lodge.  One 
day,  after  they  had  been  hunting,  coming  home  they 
found  sitting  inside  the  lodge  near  the  door  a 
beautiful  woman.  She  appeared  to  be  a  stranger, 
and  was  so  lovely  that  all  the  hunters  loved  her,  and 
as  she  could  only  be  the  wife  of  one,  they  agreed  that 
he  should  have  her  who  was  most  successful  in  the 
next  day's  hunt.  Accordingly,  the  next  day,  they 
each  took  different  ways,  and  hunted  till  the  sun 
went  down,  when  they  met  at  the  lodge.  Nine  of 
the  hunters  had  found  nothing,  but  the  youngest 
brought  home  a  deer,  so  the  woman  was  given  to 
him  for  his  wife. 

The  hunter  had  not  been  married  more  than  a 
year  when  he  was  seized  with  sickness  and  died. 
Then  the  next  brother  took  the  girl  for  his  wife. 
Shortly  after  he  died  also,  and  the  woman  married 
the  next  brother.  In  a  short  time  all  the  brothers 
died  save  the  eldest,  and  he  married  the  girl.  She 
did  not,  however,  love  him,  for  he  was  of  a  churlish 
disposition,  and  one  day  it  came  into  the  woman's 

72 


THE  SUN  AND  THE  MOON.  73 

head  that  she  would  leave  him  and  see  what  fortune 
she  would  meet  with  in  the  world.  So  she  went, 
taking  only  a  dog  with  her,  and  travelled  all  day. 
She  went  on  and  on,  but  towards  evening  she  heard 
some  one  coming  after  her  who,  she  imagined,  must 
be  her  husband.  In  great  fear  she  knew  not  which 
way  to  turn,  when  she  perceived  a  hole  in  the  ground 
before  her.  There  she  thought  she  might  hide 
herself,  and  entering  it  with  her  dog  she  suddenly 
found  herself  going  lower  and  lower,  until  she  passed 
through  the  earth  and  came  up  on  the  other  side. 
Near  to  her  there  was  a  lake,  and  a  man  fishing  in  it. 

"My  grandfather,"  cried  the  woman,  "I  am  pur 
sued  by  a  spirit." 

"Leave  me,"  cried  Manabozho,  for  it  was  he, 
"  leave  me.  Let  me  be  quiet." 

The  woman  still  begged  him  to  protect  her,  and 
Manabozho  at  length  said — 

"  Go  that  way,  and  you  shall  be  safe." 

Hardly  had  she  disappeared  when  the  husband, 
who  had  discovered  the  hole  by  which  his  wife  had 
descended,  came  on  the  scene. 

"Tell  me,"  said  he  to  Manabozho,  "  where  has  the 
woman  gone  ? " 

"  Leave  me,"  cried  Manabozho,  "don't  trouble  me." 

"  Tell  me,"  said  the  man,  "  where  is  the  woman  ? " 
Manabozho  was  silent,  and  the  husband,  at  last 
getting  angry,  abused  him  with  all  his  might. 

"  The  woman  went  that  way,"  said  Manabozho  at 
last.  *'Run  after  her,  but  you  shall  never  catch 
her,  and  you  shall  be  called  Gizhigooke  (day  sun), 


74  INDIAN   FOLKLORE. 

and  the   woman   shall   be   called  Tibikgizis  (night 
sun)." 

So  the  man  went  on  running  after  his  wife  to  the 
west,  but  he  has  never  caught  her,  and  he  pursues 
her  to  this  day. 


THE  SNAIL  AND  THE  BEAVER 

THE  father  of  the  Osage  nation  was  a  snail.  It  was 
when  the  earth  was  young  and  little.  It  was  before 
the  rivers  had  become  wide  or  long,  or  the  mountains 
lifted  their  peaks  above  the  clouds,  that  the  snail 
found  himself  passing  a  quiet  existence  on  the  banks 
of  the  Biver  Missouri.  His  wants  and  wishes  were 
but  few,  and  well  supplied,  and  he  was  happy. 

At  length  the  region  of  the  Missouri  was  visited  by 
one  of  those  great  storms  which  so  often  scatter  desola 
tion  over  it,  and  the  river,  swollen  by  the  melted  snow 
and  ice  from  the  mountains,  swept  away  everything 
from  its  banks,  and  among  other  things  the  drowsy 
snail.  Upon  a  log  he  drifted  down  many  a  day's 
journey,  till  the"  river,  subsiding,  left  him  and  his  log 
upon  the  banks  of  the  River  of  Fish.  He  was  left  in 
the  slime,  and  the  hot  sun  beamed  fiercely  upon  him 
till  he  became  baked  to  the  earth  and  found  himself 
incapable  of  moving.  Gradually  he  grew  in  size  and 
stature,  and  his  form  experienced  a  new  change,  till 
at  length  what  was  once  a  snail  creeping  on  the  earth 
ripened  into  man,  erect,  tall,  and  stately.  For  a 
long  time  after  his  change  to  a  human  being  he 

75 


76  INDIAN  FOLKLORE. 

remained  stupefied,  not  knowing  what  he  was  or  by 
what  means  to  sustain  life.  At  length  recollection 
returned  to  him.  He  remembered  that  he  was  once 
a  snail  and  dwelt  upon  another  river.  He  became 
animated  with  a  wish  to  return  to  his  old  haunts, 
and  accordingly  directed  his  steps  towards  those  parts 
from  which  he  had  been  removed.  Hunger  now 
began  to  prey  upon  him,  and  bade  fair  to  close  his 
eyes  before  he  should  again  behold  his  beloved  haunts 
on  the  banks  of  the  river.  The  beasts  of  the  forest 
were  many,  but  their  speed  outstripped  his.  The 
birds  of  the  air  fluttered  upon  sprays  beyond  his 
reach,  and  i,he  fish  gliding  through  the  waves  at  his 
feet  were  nimbler  than  he  and  eluded  his  grasp. 
Each  moment  he  grew  weaker,  the  films  gathered 
before  his  eyes,  and  in  his  ears  there  rang  sounds 
like  the  whistling  of  winds  through  the  woods  in 
the  month  before  the  snows.  At  length,  wearied  and 
exhausted,  he  laid  himself  down  upon  a  grassy  bank. 

As  he  lay  the  Great  Spirit  appeared  to  him  and 
asked — 

"  Why  does  he  who  is  the  kernel  of  the  snail  look 
terrified,  and  why  is  he  faint  and  weary  ?  " 

**  That  I  tremble,"  answered  he,  "is  because  I  fear 
thy  power.  That  I  faint  is  because  I  lack  food." 

"  As  regards  thy  trembling,"  answered  the  Great 
Spirit,  "  be  composed.  Art  thou  hungry  1 " 

"I  have  eaten  nothing,"  replied  the  man,  u since 
I  ceased  to  be  a  snail." 

Upon  hearing  this  the  Great  Spirit  drew  from 
under  his  robe  a  bow  and  arrow,  and  bade  the  man 


THE  SNAIL  AND  THE  BEAVER.         77 

observe  what  he  did  with  it.  On  the  topmost  bough 
of  a  lofty  tree  sat  a  beautiful  bird,  singing  and 
fluttering  among  the  red  leaves.  He  placed  an  arrow 
on  the  bow,  and,  letting  fly,  the  bird  fell  down  upon 
the  earth.  A  deer  was  seen  afar  off  browsing. 
Again  the  archer  bent  his  bow  and  the  animal  lay 
dead,  food  for  the  son  of  the  snail. 

"There  are  victuals  for  you,"  said  the  Spirit, 
"  enough  to  last  you  till  your  strength  enables  you 
to  beat  up  the  haunts  of  the  deer  and  the  moose, 
and  here  is  the  bow  and  arrow." 

The  Great  Spirit  also  taught  the  man  how  to  skin 
the  deer,  and  clothed  him  with  the  skin.  Having 
done  this,  and  having  given  the  beasts,  fishes, 
and  all  feathered  creatures  to  him  for  his  food  and 
raiment,  he  bade  the  man  farewell  and  took  his 
departure. 

Strengthened  and  invigorated,  the  man  pursued 
his  journey  towards  the  old  spot.  He  soon  stood 
upon  the  banks  of  his  beloved  river.  A  few  more 
suns  and  he  would  sit  down  upon  the  very  spot 
where  for  so  many  seasons  he  had  crawled  on  the 
slimy  leaf,  so  often  dragged  himself  lazily  over  the 
muddy  pool.  He  had  seated  himself  upon  the  bank 
of  the  river,  and  was  meditating  deeply  on  these 
things,  when  up  crept  from  the  water  a  beaver,  who, 
addressing  him,  said  in  an  angry  tone — 

"Who  are  you1?" 

"  I  am  a  snail,"  replied  the  Snail-Man.  "  Who 
are  you  ? " 

"I  am  head  warrior  of  the  nation  of  beavers," 


78  INDIAN  FOLKLORE. 

answered  the  other.  "  By  what  authority  have  you 
come  to  disturb  my  possession  of  this  river,  which 
is  my  dominion  ? " 

"It  is  not  your  river,"  replied  the  Wasbasha. 
"  The  Great  Being,  who  is  over  man  and  beast,  has 
given  it  to  me." 

The  beaver  was  at  first  incredulous ;  but  at  length, 
convinced  that  what  the  man  said  was  true,  he  in 
vited  him  to  accompany  him  to  his  home.  The 
man  agreed,  and  went  with  him  till  they  came  to  a 
number  of  small  cabins,  into  the  largest  of  which 
the  beaver  conducted  him.  He  invited  the  man  to 
take  food  with  him,  and  while  the  beaver's  wife  and 
daughter  were  preparing  the  feast,  he  entertained 
his  guest  with  an  account  of  his  people's  habits  of 
life.  Soon  the  wife  and  daughter  made  their  ap 
pearance  with  the  food,  and  sitting  down  the  Snail- 
Man  was  soon  at  his  ease  amongst  them.  He  was 
not,  however,  so  occupied  with  the  banquet  that  he 
had  not  time  to  be  enchanted  with  the  beauty  of 
the  beaver's  daughter;  and  when  the  visit  was 
drawing  to  a  close,  so  much  was  he  in  love,  that  he 
asked  the  beaver  to  give  her  to  him  for  his  wife.  The 
beaver-chief  consented,  and  the  marriage  was  cele 
brated  by  a  feast,  to  which  all  the  beavers,  and  the 
animals  with  whom  they  had  friendly  relations, 
were  invited.  From  this  union  of  the  Snail-Man 
and  the  Beaver-Maid  sprang  the  tribe  of  the 
Osages, — at  least  so  it  is  related  by  the  old  men  of 
the  tribe. 


THE  STBANGE  GUESTS. 

MANY  years  ago  there  lived,  near  the  borders  of 
Lake  Superior,  a  noted  hunter,  who  had  a  wife  and 
one  child.  His  lodge  stood  in  a  remote  part  of  the 
forest,  several  days'  journey  from  that  of  any  other 
person.  He  spent  his  days  in  hunting,  and  his 
evenings  in  relating  to  his  wife  the  incidents  that 
had  befallen  him  in  the  chase.  As  game  was  very 
abundant,  he  seldom  failed  to  bring  home  in  the 
evening  an  ample  store  of  meat  to  last  them  until 
the  succeeding  evening;  and  while  they  were  seated 
by  the  fire  in  his  lodge  partaking  the  fruits  of  his 
day's  labour,  he  entertained  his  wife  with  conversa 
tion,  or  by  occasionally  relating  those  tales,  or  en 
forcing  those  precepts,  which  every  good  Indian 
esteems  necessary  for  the  instruction  of  his  wife 
and  children.  Thus,  far  removed  from  all  sources 
of  disquiet,  surrounded  by  all  they  deemed  neces 
sary  to  their  comfort,  and  happy  in  one  another's 
society,  their  lives  passed  away  in  cheerful  solitude 
and  sweet  contentment.  The  breast  of  the  hunter 
had  never  felt  the  compunctions  of  remorse,  for  he 

79 


80  INDIAN  FOLKLORE. 

was  a  just  man  in  all  his  dealings.  He  had  never 
violated  the  laws  of  his  tribe  by  encroaching  upon 
the  hunting-grounds  of  his  neighbours,  by  taking 
that  which  did  not  belong  to  him,  or  by  any  act 
calculated  to  displease  the  village  chiefs  or  offend 
the  Great  Spirit.  His  chief  ambition  was  to  support 
his  family  with  a  sufficiency  of  food  and  skins  by 
his  own  unaided  exertions,  and  to  share  their  happi 
ness  around  his  cheerful  fire  at  night.  The  white 
man  had  not  yet  taught  them  that  blankets  and 
clothes  were  necessary  to  their  comfort,  or  that 
guns  could  be  used  in  the  killing  of  game. 

The  life  of  the  Chippewa  hunter  peacefully  glided 
away. 

One  evening  during  the  winter  season,  it  chanced 
that  he  remained  out  later  than  usual,  and  his  wife 
sat  lonely  in  the  lodge,  and  began  to  be  agitated 
with  fears  lest  some  accident  had  befallen  him. 
Darkness  had  already  fallen.  She  listened  atten 
tively  to  hear  the  sound  of  coming  footsteps ;  but 
nothing  could  be  heard  but  the  wind  mournfully 
whistling  around  the  sides  of  the  lodge.  Time 
passed  away  while  she  remained  in  this  state  of 
suspense,  every  moment  augmenting  her  fears  and 
adding  to  her  disappointment. 

Suddenly  she  heard  the  sound  of  approaching 
footsteps  upon  the  frozen  surface  of  the  snow.  Not 
doubting  that  it  was  her  husband,  she  quickly  un 
fastened  the  loop  which  held,  by  an  inner  fastening, 
the  skin  door  of  the  lodge,  and  throwing  it  open 
she  saw  two  strange  women  standing  before  it. 


THE  STRANGE  GUESTS.  81 

Courtesy  left  the  hunter's  wife  no  time  for  delibera 
tion.  She  invited  the  strangers  to  enter  and  warm 
themselves,  thinking,  from  the  distance  to  the 
nearest  neighbours,  they  must  have  walked  a  con 
siderable  way.  When  they  were  entered  she  in 
vited  them  to  remain.  They  seemed  to  be  total 
strangers  to  that  part  of  the  country,  and  the  more 
closely  she  observed  them  the  more  curious  the  hun 
ter's  wife  became  respecting  her  guests. 

No  efforts  could  induce  them  to  come  near  the 
fire.  They  took  their  seats  in  a  remote  part  of  the 
lodge,  and  drew  their  garments  about  them  in  such 
a  manner  as  to  almost  completely  hide  their  faces. 
They  seemed  shy  and  reserved,  and  when  a  glimpse 
could  be  had  of  their  faces  they  appeared  pale,  even 
of  a  deathly  hue.  Their  eyes  were  bright  but 
sunken  :  their  cheek-bones  were  prominent,  and 
their  persons  slender  and  emaciated. 

Seeing  that  her  guests  avoided  conversation  as 
well  as  observation,  the  woman  forbore  to  question 
them,  and  sat  in  silence  until  her  husband  entered. 
He  had  been  led  further  than  usual  in  the  pursuit 
of  game,  but  had  returned  with  the  carcass  of  a 
large  and  fat  deer.  The  moment  he  entered  the 
lodge,  the  mysterious  women  exclaimed — 

11  Behold  !  what  a  fine  and  fat  animal !  "  and  they 
immediately  ran  and  pulled  off  pieces  of  the  whitest 
fat,  which  they  ate  with  avidity. 

Such  conduct  appeared  very  strange  to  the  hunter, 
but  supposing  the  strangers  had  been  a  long  time 
without  food,  he  made  no  remark ;  and  his  wife, 


82  INDIAN  FOLKLORE. 

taking  example  from  her  husband,  likewise  re 
strained  herself. 

On  the  following  evening  the  same  scene  was 
repeated.  The  hunter  brought  home  the  best  por 
tions  of  the  game  he  had  killed,  and  while  he  was 
laying  it  down  before  his  wife,  according  to  custom, 
the  two  strange  women  came  quickly  up,  tore  off 
large  pieces  of  fat,  and  ate  them  with  greediness. 
Such  behaviour  might  well  have  aroused  the  hunter's 
displeasure ;  but  the  deference  due  to  strange  guests 
induced  him  to  pass  it  over  in  silence. 

Observing  the  parts  to  which  the  strangers  were 
most  partial,  the  hunter  resolved  the  next  day  to 
anticipate  their  wants  by  cutting  off  and  tying  up  a 
portion  of  the  fat  for  each.  This  he  did  :  and  having 
placed  the  two  portions  of  fat  upon  the  top  of  his 
burden,  as  soon  as  he  entered  the  lodge  he  gave  to 
each  stranger  the  part  that  was  hers.  Still  the 
guests  appeared  to  be  dissatisfied,  and  took  more 
from  the  carcass  lying  before  the  wife. 

Except  for  this  remarkable  behaviour,  the  conduct 
of  the  guests  was  unexceptionable,  although  marked 
by  some  peculiarities.  They  were  quiet,  modest, 
and  discreet.  They  maintained  a  cautious  silence 
during  the  day,  neither  uttering  a  word  nor  moving 
from  the  lodge.  At  night  they  would  get  up,  and, 
taking  those  implements  which  were  then  used  in 
breaking  and  preparing  wood,  repair  to  the  forest. 
Here  they  would  busy  themselves  in  seeking  dry 
branches  and  pieces  of  trees  blown  down  by  the 
wind.  When  a  sufficient  quantity  had  been  gathered 


THE  STRANGE  GUESTS.  83 

to  last  until  the  succeeding  night  they  carried  it 
home  upon  their  shoulders.  Then  carefully  putting 
everything  in  its  place  within  the  lodge,  they  re 
sumed  their  seats  and  their  studied  silence.  They 
were  always  careful  to  return  from  their  labours 
before  the  dawn  of  day,  and  were  never  known  to 
stay  out  beyond  that  hour.  In  this  manner  they 
repaid,  in  some  measure,  the  kindness  of  the  hunter, 
and  relieved  his  wife  from  one  of  her  most  laborious 
duties. 

Thus  nearly  the  whole  year  passed  away,  every 
day  leading  to  some  new  development  of  character 
which  served  to  endear  the  parties  to  each  other. 
The  visitors  began  to  assume  a  more  hale  and 
healthy  aspect  ;  their  faces  daily  lost  something 
of  that  deathly  hue  which  had  at  first  marked  them, 
and  they  visibly  improved  in  strength,  and  threw 
off  some  of  that  cold  reserve  and  forbidding  austerity 
which  had  kept  the  hunter  so  long  in  ignorance  of 
their  true  character. 

One  evening  the  hunter  returned  very  late  after 
having  spent  the  day  in  toilsome  exertion,  and  hav 
ing  laid  the  produce  of  his  hunt  at  his  wife's  feet, 
the  silent  women  seized  it  and  began  to  tear  off  the 
fat  in  such  an  unceremonious  manner  that  the  wife 
could  no  longer  control  her  feelings  of  disgust,  and 
said  to  herself — 

"  This  is  really  too  bad.  How  can  I  bear  it  any 
longer  ?" 

She  did  not,  however,  put  her  thought  into  words, 
but  an  immediate  change  was  observed  in  the  two 


84  INDIAN  FOLKLORE. 

visitors.  They  became  unusually  reserved,  and 
showed  evident  signs  of  being  uneasy  in  their  situa 
tion.  The  good  hunter  immediately  perceived  this 
change,  and,  fearful  that  they  had  taken  offence,  as 
soon  as  they  had  retired  demanded  of  his  wife 
whether  any  harsh  expression  had  escaped  her  lips 
during  the  day.  She  replied  that  she  had  uttered 
nothing  to  give  the  least  offence.  The  hunter  tried 
to  compose  himself  to  sleep,  but  he  felt  restive  and 
uneasy,  for  he  could  hear  the  sighs  and  lamentations 
of  the  two  strangers.  Every  moment  added  to  his 
conviction  that  his  guests  had  taken  some  deep 
offence ;  and,  as  he  could  not  banish  this  idea  from 
his  mind,  he  arose,  and,  going  to  the  strangers,  thus 
addressed  them — 

"  Tell  me,  ye  women,  what  is  it  that  causes  you 
pain  of  mind,  and  makes  you  utter  these  unceasing 
sighs  ?  Has  my  wife  given  you  any  cause  of  offence 
during  the  day  while  I  was  absent  in  the  chase  1 
My  fears  persuade  me  that,  in  some  unguarded 
moment,  she  has  forgotten  what  is  due  to  the  rights 
of  Hospitality,  and  used  expressions  ill-befitting  the 
mysterious  character  you  sustain.  Tell  me,  ye 
strangers  from  a  strange  country,  ye  women  who 
appear  not  to  be  of  this  world,  what  it  is  that  causes 
you  pain  of  mind,  and  makes  you  utter  these  unceas 
ing  sighs." 

They  replied  that  no  unkind  expression  had  ever 
been  used  towards  them  during  their  residence  in 
the  lodge,  that  they  had  received  all  the  affectionate 
attention  they  could  reasonably  expect. 


THE   STRANGE   GUESTS.  85 

"It  is  not  for  ourselves,"  they  continued,  "it  is 
not  for  ourselves  that  we  weep.  We  are  weeping 
for  the  fate  of  mankind ;  we  are  weeping  for  the 
fate  of  mortals  whom  Death  awaits  at  every  stage  of 
their  existence.  Proud  mortals,  whom  disease 
attacks  in  youth  and  in  age.  Vain  men,  whom 
hunger  pinches,  cold  benumbs,  and  poverty  ema 
ciates.  Weak  beings,  who  are  born  in  tears,  who 
are  nurtured  in  tears,  and  whose  whole  course  is 
marked  upon  the  thirsty  sands  of  life  in  a  broad  line 
of  tears.  It  is  for  these  we  weep. 

"You  have  spoken  truly,  brother;  we  are  not  of 
this  world.  We  are  spirits  from  the  land  of  the 
dead,  sent  upon  the  earth  to  try  the  sincerity 
of  the  living.  It  is  not  for  the  dead  but  for  the 
living  that  we  mourn.  It  was  by  no  means  neces 
sary  that  your  wife  should  express  her  thoughts 
to  us.  We  knew  them  as  soon  as  they  were  formed. 
We  saw  that  for  once  displeasure  had  arisen  in  her 
heart.  It  is  enough.  Our  mission  is  ended.  We 
came  but  to  try  you,  and  we  knew  before  we  came 
that  you  were  a  kind  husband,  an  affectionate  father, 
and  a  good  friend.  Still,  you  have  the  weaknesses 
of  a  mortal,  and  your  wife  is  wanting  in  our  eyes ; 
but  it  is  not  alone  for  you  we  weep,  it  is  for  the  fate 
of  mankind. 

"Often,  very  often,  has  the  widower  exclaimed, 
1 0  Death,  how  cruel,  how  relentless  thou  art  to  take 
away  my  beloved  friend  in  the  spring  of  her  youth, 
in  the  pride  of  her  strength,  and  in  the  bloom  of  her 
beauty  !  If  thou  wilt  permit  her  once  more  to 


86  INDIAN   FOLKLORE. 

return  to  my  abode,  my  gratitude  shall  never  cease ; 
I  will  raise  up  my  voice  continually  to  thank  the 
Master  of  Life  for  so  excellent  a  boon.  I  will  devote 
my  time  to  study  how  I  can  best  promote  her  hap 
piness  while  she  is  permitted  to  remain;  and  our 
lives  shall  roll  away  like  a  pleasant  stream  through 
a  flowing  valley ! '  Thus  also  has  the  father  prayed 
for  his  son,  the  mother  for  her  daughter,  the  wife 
for  her  husband,  the  sister  for  her  brother,  the  lover 
for  his  mistress,  the  friend  for  his  bosom  companion, 
until  the  sounds  of  mourning  and  the  cries  of  the 
living  have  pierced  the  very  recesses  of  the  dead. 

"  The  Great  Spirit  has  at  length  consented  to  make 
a  trial  of  the  sincerity  of  these  prayers  by  sending 
us  upon  the  earth.  He  has  done  this  to  see  how  we 
should  be  received, — coming  as  strangers,  no  one 
knowing  from  where.  Three  moons  were  allotted  to 
us  to  make  the  trial,  and  if,  during  that  time,  no 
impatience  had  been  evinced,  no  angry  passions 
excited  at  the  place  where  we  took  up  our  abode, 
all  those  in  the  land  of  spirits,  whom  their  relatives 
had  desired  to  return,  would  have  been  restored. 
More  than  two  moons  have  already  passed,  and  as 
soon  as  the  leaves  began  to  bud  our  mission  would 
have  been  successfully  terminated.  It  is  now  too 
late.  Our  trial  is  finished,  and  we  are  called  to  the 
pleasant  fields  whence  we  came. 

"  Brother,  it  is  proper  that  one  man  should  die  to 
make  room  for  another.  Otherwise,  the  world  would 
be  filled  to  overflowing.  It  is  just  that  the  goods 
gathered  by  one  should  be  left  to  be  divided  among 


THE  STRANGE  GUESTS.  87 

others ;  for  in  the  land  of  spirits  there  is  no  want, 
there  is  neither  sorrow  nor  hunger,  pain  nor  death. 
Pleasant  fields,  filled  with  game  spread  before  the 
eye,  with  birds  of  beautiful  form.  Every  stream  has 
good  fish  in  it,  and  every  hill  is  crowned  with  groves 
of  fruit-trees,  sweet  and  pleasant  to  the  taste.  It  is 
not  here,  brother,  but  there  that  men  begin  truly  to 
live.  It  is  not  for  those  who  rejoice  in  those  pleasant 
groves  but  for  you  that  are  left  behind  that  we  weep. 

"Brother,  take  our  thanks  for  your  hospitable 
treatment.  Regret  not  our  departure.  Fear  not 
evil.  Thy  luck  shall  still  be  good  in  the  chase,  and 
there  shall  ever  be  a  bright  sky  over  thy  lodge. 
Mourn  not  for  us,  for  no  corn  will  spring  up  from 
tears." 

The  spirits  ceased,  but  the  hunter  had  no  power 
over  his  voice  to  reply.  As  they  had  proceeded  in 
their  address  he  saw  a  light  gradually  beaming  from 
their  faces,  and  a  blue  vapour  filled  the  lodge  with 
an  unnatural  light.  As  soon  as  they  ceased,  dark 
ness  gradually  closed  around.  The  hunter  listened, 
but  the  sobs  of  the  spirits  had  ceased.  He  heard 
the  door  of  his  tent  open  and  shut,  but  he  never 
saw  more  of  his  mysterious  visitors. 

The  success  promised  him  was  his.  He  became  a 
celebrated  hunter,  and  never  wanted  for  anything 
necessary  to  his  ease.  He  became  the  father  of 
many  boys,  all  of  whom  grew  up  to  manhood,  and 
health,  peace,  and  long  life  were  the  rewards  of  his 
hospitality. 


MANABOZHO  AND  HIS  TOE. 

MANABOZHO  was  so  powerful  that  he  began  to  think 
there  was  nothing  he  could  not  do.  Very  wonderful 
were  many  of  his  feats,  and  he  grew  more  conceited 
day  by  day.  Now  it  chanced  that  one  day  he  was 
walking  about  amusing  himself  by  exercising  his 
extraordinary  powers,  and  at  length  he  came  to  an 
encampment  where  one  of  the  first  things  he  noticed 
was  a  child  lying  in  the  sunshine,  curled  up  with  its 
toe  in  its  mouth. 

Manabozho  looked  at  the  child  for  some  time,  and 
wondered  at  its  extraordinary  posture. 

"  I  have  never  seen  a  child  before  lie  like  that," 
said  he  to  himself,  "  but  I  could  lie  like  it." 

So  saying,  he  put  himself  down  beside  the  child, 
and,  taking  his  right  foot  in  his  hand,  drew  it  towards 
his  mouth.  When  he  had  brought  it  as  near  as  he 
could  it  was  yet  a  considerable  distance  away  from 
his  lips. 

"  J  will  try  the  left  foot,"  said  Manabozho.  He 
did  so  and  found  that  he  was  no  better  off,  neither 
of  his  feet  could  he  get  to  his  mouth.  He  curled 
and  twisted,  and  bent  his  large  limbs,  and  gnashed 


MANABOZHO   AND   HIS   TOE.  89 

his  teeth  in  rage  to  find  that  he  could  not  get  his  toe 
to  his  mouth.  All,  however,  was  vain. 

At  length  he  rose,  worn  out  with  his  exertions  and 
passion,  and  walked  slowly  away  in  a  very  ill 
humour,  which  was  not  lessened  by  the  sound  of 
the  child's  laughter,  for  Manabozho's  efforts  had 
awakened  it. 

"  Ah,  ah  ! "  said  Manabozho,  "  shall  I  be  mocked 
by  a  child  1 " 

He  did  not,  however,  revenge  himself  on  his 
victor,  but  on  his  way  homeward,  meeting  a  boy 
who  did  not  treat  him  with  proper  respect,  he 
transformed  him  into  a  cedar-tree. 

"At  least,"  said  Manabozho,  "  I  can  do  something." 


THE  GIEL  WHO  BECAME  A  BIED. 

THE  father  of  Kan-che-wai-me,  the  flying  pigeon  of 
the  Wisconsin,  would  not  hear  of  her  wedding  Wai- 
o-naisa,  the  young  chief  who  had  long  sought  her  in 
marriage.  The  maiden,  however,  true  to  her  plighted 
faith,  still  continued  to  meet  him  every  evening  upon 
one  of  the  tufted  islets  which  stud  the  river  in  great 
profusion.  Nightly,  through  the  long  months  of 
summer,  did  the  lovers  keep  their  tryst,  parting  only 
after  each  meeting  more  and  more  endeared  to  each 
other. 

At  length  Wai-o-naisa  was  ordered  off  upon  a 
secret  expedition  against  the  Sioux,  and  so  sudden 
was  his  departure  that  he  had  no  opportunity  of 
bidding  farewell  to  his  betrothed.  The  band  of 
warriors  to  which  he  was  attached  was  a  long  while 
absent,  and  one  day  there  came  the  news  that  Wai- 
o-naisa  had  fallen  in  a  fight  with  the  Menomones. 

Kan-che-wai-me  was  inconsolable,  but  she  dared 
not  show  her  grief  before  her  parents,  and  the  only 
relief  she  could  find  from  her  sorrow  was  to  swim 
over  by  starlight  to  the  island  where  she  had  been 
accustomed  to  meet  her  lover,  and  there,  calling  upon 

90 


THE  GIRL   WHO   BECAME  A  BIRD.  91 

his  name,  bewail  the  loss  of  him  who  was  dearer  to 
her  than  all  else. 

One  night,  while  she  was  engaged  in  this  lamenta 
tion,  the  sound  of  her  voice  attracted  some  of  her 
father's  people  to  the  spot.  Startled  by  their  appear 
ance  the  girl  tried  to  climb  a  tree,  in  order  to  hide 
herself  in  its  branches,  but  her  frame  was  bowed 
with  sorrow  and  her  weak  limbs  refused  to  aid  her. 

"  VVai-o-naisa  !  "  she  cried,  "  Wai-o-naisa ! " 

At  each  repetition  of  his  name  her  voice  became 
shriller,  while,  as  she  endeavoured  to  screen  herself 
in  the  underwood,  a  soft  plumage  began  to  cover  her 
delicate  limbs,  which  were  wounded  by  the  briers. 
She  tossed  her  arms  to  the  sky  in  her  distress  and 
they  became  clothed  with  feathers.  At  length, 
when  her  pursuers  were  close  upon  her,  a  bird  arose 
from  the  bush  they  had  surrounded,  and  flitting 
from  tree  to  tree,  it  fled  before  them,  ever  crying — 

"  Wai-o-naisa  !  Wai-o-naisa ! " 


THE  UNDYING  HEAD. 

IN  a  remote  part  of  the  north  lived  a  man  and  his 
only  sister  who  had  never  seen  human  being. 
Seldom,  if  ever,  had  the  man  any  cause  to  go  from 
home,  for  if  he  wanted  food  he  had  only  to  go  a 
little  distance  from  the  lodge,  and  there  place  his 
arrows  with  their  barbs  in  the  ground.  He  would 
then  return  to  the  lodge  and  tell  his  sister  where  the 
arrows  had  been  placed,  when  she  would  go  in  search 
of  them,  and  never  fail  to  find  each  struck  through 
the  heart  of  a  deer.  These  she  dragged  to  the  lodge 
and  dressed  for  food.  Thus  she  lived  until  she 
attained  womanhood.  One  day  her  brother,  who 
was  named  lamo,  said  to  her — 

"Sister,  the  time  is  near  when  you  will  be  ill. 
Listen  to  my  advice,  for  if  you  do  not  it  will  probably 
be  the  cause  of  my  death.  Take  the  implements 
with  which  we  kindle  our  fires,  go  some  distance 
from  our  lodge  and  build  a  separate  fire.  When  you 
are  in  want  of  food  I  will  tell  you  where  to  find  it. 
You  must  cook  for  yourself  and  I  for  myself.  When 
you  are  ill  do  not  attempt  to  come  near  the  lodge 
or  bring  to  it  any  of  the  utensils  you  use.  Be  sure 
to  always  have  fastened  to  your  belt  whatever  you 

92 


THE   UNDYING   HEAD.  93 

will  need  in  your  sickness,  for  you  do  not  know 
when  the  time  of  your  indisposition  will  come.  As 
for  myself,  I  must  do  the  best  I  can."  His  sister 
promised  to  obey  him  in  all  he  said. 

Shortly  after  her  brother  had  cause  to  go  from 
home.  His  sister  was  alone  in  the  lodge  combing 
her  hair,  and  she  had  just  untied  and  laid  aside  the 
belt  to  which  the  implements  were  fastened  when 
suddenly  she  felt  unwell.  She  ran  out  of  the  lodge, 
but  in  her  haste  forgot  the  belt.  Afraid  to  return 
she  stood  some  time  thinking,  and  finally  she 
determined  to  return  to  the  lodge  and  get  it,  for  she 
said  to  herself — 

"  My  brother  is  not  at  home,  and  I  will  stay  but  a 
moment  to  catch  hold  of  it." 

She  went  back,  and,  running  in,  suddenly  seized 
the  belt,  and  was  coming  out,  when  her  brother  met 
her.  He  knew  what  had  happened. 

"Did  I  not  tell  you,"  said  he,  "to  take  care? 
Now  you  have  killed  me." 

His  sister  would  have  gone  away,  but  he  spoke  to 
her  again. 

"What  can  you  do  now?  What  I  feared  has 
happened.  Go  in,  and  stay  where  you  have  always 
lived.  You  have  killed  me." 

He  then  laid  aside  his  hunting  dress  and  accoutre 
ments,  and  soon  after  both  his  feet  began  to  inflame 
and  turn  black,  so  that  he  could  not  move.  He 
directed  his  sister  where  to  place  his  arrows,  so  that 
she  might  always  have  food.  The  inflammation  con 
tinued  to  increase,  and  had  now  reached  his  first  rib. 


94  INDIAN   FOLKLORE. 

"Sister,"  said  he,  " my  end  is  near.  You  must  do 
as  I  tell  you.  You  see  my  medicine-sack  and  my 
war-club  tied  to  it.  It  contains  all  my  medicines, 
my  war-plumes,  and  my  paints  of  all  colours.  As 
soon  as  the  inflammation  reaches  my  chest,  you  will 
take  my  war-club,  and  with  the  sharp  point  of  it  cut 
off  my  head.  When  it  is  free  from  my  body,  take  it, 
place  its  neck  in  the  sack,  which  you  must  open  at 
one  end.  Then  hang  it  up  in  its  former  place.  Do 
not  forget  my  bow  and  arrows.  One  of  the  last  you 
will  take  to  procure  food.  Tie  the  others  to  my 
sack,  and  then  hang  it  up  so  that  I  can  look  towards 
the  door.  Now  and  then  I  will  speak  to  you,  but 
not  often." 

His  sister  again  promised  to  obey. 

In  a  little  time  his  chest  became  affected. 

"  Now,"  cried  he,  "  take  the  club  and  strike  off  my 
head." 

His  sister  was  afraid,  but  he  told  her  to  muster  up 
courage. 

"  Strike,"  said  he,  with  a  smile  upon  his  face. 

Calling  up  all  her  courage,  his  sister  struck  and 
cut  off  the  head. 

"Now,"  said  the  head,  "place  me  where  I  told 
you." 

Fearful,  she  obeyed  it  in  all  its  commands. 

Eetaining  its  animation,  it  looked  round  the  lodge 
as  usual,  and  it  would  command  its  sister  to  go  to 
such  places  where  it  thought  she  could  best  procure 
the  flesh  of  the  different  animals  she  needed.  One 
day  the  head  said — 


THE   UNDYING   HEAD.  95 

"  The  time  is  not  distant  when  I  shall  be  freed 
from  this  situation,  but  I  shall  have  to  undergo  many 
sore  evils.  So  the  Superior  Manito  decrees,  and  I 
must  bear  all  patiently." 

In  a  certain  part  of  the  country  was  a  village 
inhabited  by  a  numerous  and  warlike  band  of  Indians. 
In  this  village  was  a  family  of  ten  young  men, 
brothers.  In  the  spring  of  the  year  the  youngest  of 
these  blackened  his  face  and  fasted.  His  dreams 
were  propitious,  and  having  ended  his  fast,  he  sent 
secretly  for  his  brothers  at  night,  so  that  the  people 
in  the  village  should  not  be  aware  of  their  meeting. 
He  told  them  how  favourable  his  dreams  had  been, 
and  that  he  had  called  them  together  to  ask  them  if 
they  would  accompany  him  in  a  war  excursion. 
They  all  answered  they  would.  The  third  son,  noted 
for  his  oddities,  swinging  his  war-club  when  his 
brother  had  ceased  speaking,  jumped  up :  "  Yes/' 
said  he,  "  I  will  go,  and  this  will  be  the  way  I  will 
treat  those  we  go  to  fight  with."  With  those  words 
he  struck  the  post  in  the  centre  of  the  lodge,  and  gave 
a  yell.  The  other  brothers  spoke  to  him,  saying — 

"Gently,  gently,  Mudjikewis,  when  you  are  in 
other  people's  lodges."  So  he  sat  down.  Then,  in 
turn,  they  took  the  drum,  sang  their  songs,  and  closed 
the  meeting  with  a  feast.  The  youngest  told  them 
not  to  whisper  their  intention  to  their  wives,  but  to 
prepare  secretly  for  their  j  ourney .  They  all  promised 
obedience,  and  Mudjikewis  was  the  first  to  do  so. 

The  time  for  departure  drew  near.  The  youngest 
gave  the  word  for  them  to  assemble  on  a  certain  night, 


96  INDIAN   FOLKLORE. 

when  they  would  commence  their  journey.  Mudji- 
kewis  was  loud  in  his  demands  for  his  moccasins,  and 
his  wife  several  times  demanded  the  reason  of  his 
impatience. 

"Besides,"  said  she,  "you  have  a  good  pair  on." 

"Quick,  quick,"  replied  Mud  j  ike  wis ;  "since  you 
must  know,  we  are  going  on  a  war  excursion." 

Thus  he  revealed  the  secret. 

That  night  they  met  and  started.  The  snow  was 
on  the  ground,  and  they  travelled  all  night  lest 
others  should  follow  them.  When  it  was  daylight, 
the  leader  took  snow,  made  a  ball  of  it,  and  tossing 
it  up  in  the  air,  said — 

"  It  was  in  this  way  I  saw  snow  fall  in  my  dream, 
so  that  we  could  not  be  tracked." 

Immediately  snow  began  to  fall  in  large  flakes,  so 
that  the  leader  commanded  the  brothers  to  keep 
close  together  for  fear  of  losing  one  another.  Close 
as  they  walked  together  it  was  with  difficulty  they 
could  see  one  another.  The  snow  continued  falling 
all  that  day  and  the  next  night,  so  that  it  was 
impossible  for  any  one  to  follow  their  track. 

They  walked  for  several  days,  and  Mud  j  ike  wis 
was  always  in  the  rear.  One  day,  running  suddenly 
forward,  he  gave  the  Saw-saw-quan  (war-cry),  and 
struck  a  tree  with  his  war-club,  breaking  the  tree  in 
pieces  as  if  it  had  been  struck  by  lightning. 

"  Brothers,"  said  he,  "  this  is  the  way  I  will  serve 
those  we  are  going  to  fight." 

The  leader  answered — 

"  Slowly,  slowly,  Mudjikewis.  The  one  I  lead 
you  to  is  not  to  be  thought  of  so  lightly." 


THE  UNDYING  HEAD.  97 

Again  Mudjikewis  fell  back  and  thought  to  him 
self— 

"  What,  what !  Who  can  this  be  he  is  leading 
us  to  ? " 

He  felt  fearful,  and  was  silent.  Day  after  day 
they  travelled  on  till  they  came  to  an  extensive 
plain,  on  the  borders  of  which  human  bones  were 
bleaching  in  the  sun.  The  leader  said — 

"  These  are  the  bones  of  those  who  have  gone 
before  us.  None  has  ever  yet  returned  to  tell  the 
sad  tale  of  their  fate." 

Again  Mudjikewis  became  restless,  and,  running 
forward,  gave  the  accustomed  yell.  Advancing  to  a 
large  rock  which  stood  above  the  ground  he  struck 
it,  and  it  fell  to  pieces. 

"  See,  brothers,"  said  he,  "  thus  will  I  treat  those 
we  are  going  to  fight." 

"  Be  quiet,"  said  the  leader.  "  He  to  whom  I 
am  leading  you  is  not  to  be  compared  to  that  rock." 

Mudjikewis  fell  back  quite  thoughtful,  saying  to 
himself — 

"  I  wonder  who  this  can  be  that  he  is  going  to 
attack  ; "  and  he  was  afraid. 

They  continued  to  see  the  remains  of  former 
warriors  who  had  been  to  the  place  to  which  they 
were  now  going,  and  had  retreated  thus  far  back 
again.  At  last  they  came  to  a  piece  of  rising  ground, 
from  which  they  plainly  saw  on  a  distant  mountain 
an  enormous  bear.  The  distance  between  them  was 
very  great,  but  the  size  of  the  animal  caused  it  to  be 
seen  very  clearly. 


98  INDIAN  FOLKLORE. 

"There,"  said  the  leader;  "it  is  to  him  I  am 
leading  you.  Here  our  troubles  will  only  commence, 
for  he  is  a  mishemokwa  "  (a  she-bear,  or  a  male-bear 
as  ferocious  as  a  she-bear)  "  and  a  manito.  It  is 
he  who  has  what  we  prize  so  dearly,  to  obtain  which 
the  warriors  whose  bones  we  saw  sacrificed  their 
lives.  You  must  not  be  fearful.  Be  manly  ;  we 
shall  find  him  asleep." 

The  warriors  advanced  boldly  till  they  came  near 
to  the  bear,  when  they  stopped  to  look  at  it  more 
closely.  It  was  asleep,  and  there  was  a  belt  around 
its  neck. 

"  This,"  said  the  leader,  touching  the  belt,  "  is 
what  we  must  get.  It  contains  what  we  want." 

The  eldest  brother  then  tried  to  slip  the  belt  over 
the  bear's  head,  the  animal  appearing  to  be  fast 
asleep,  and  not  at  all  disturbed  by  his  efforts.  He 
could  not,  however,  remove  the  belt,  nor  was  any  of 
the  brothers  more  successful  till  the  one  next  to  the 
youngest  tried  in  his  turn.  He  slipped  the  belt 
nearly  over  the  beast's  head,  but  could  not  get  it 
quite  off.  Then  the  youngest  laid  his  hands  on 
it,  and  with  a  pull  succeeded.  Placing  the  belt  on 
the  eldest  brother's  back,  he  said— 

"  Now  we  must  run,"  and  they  started  off  at  their 
best  pace.  When  one  became  tired  with  the  weight 
of  the  belt  another  carried  it.  Thus  they  ran  till 
they  had  passed  the  bones  of  all  the  warriors,  and 
when  they  were  some  distance  beyond,  looking  back, 
they  saw  the  monster  slowly  rising.  For  some  time 
it  stood  still,  not  missing  the  belt.  Then  they  heard 


THE  UNDYING  HEAD. 

a   tremendous   howl,   like   distant  thunder,   slowly 
filling  the  sky.     At  last  they  heard  the  bear  cry — 

"Who  can  it  be  that  has  dared  to  steal  my  belt  1 
Earth  is  not  so  large  but  I  can  find  them,"  and  it 
descended  the  hill  in  pursuit.  With  every  jump  of 
the  bear  the  earth  shook  as  if  it  were  convulsed. 
Very  soon  it  approached  the  party.  They,  how 
ever,  kept  the  belt,  exchanging  it  from  one  to  an 
other,  and  encouraging  each  other.  The  bear,,  how 
ever,  gained  on  them  fast. 

"  Brothers,"  said  the  leader,  "  have  none  of  you, 
when  fasting,  ever  dreamed  of  some  friendly  spirit 
who  would  aid  you  as  a  guardian  1 " 

A  dead  silence  followed. 

"  Well,"  continued  he,  "  once  when  I  was  fasting 
I  dreamed  of  being  in  danger  of  instant  death, 
when  I  saw  a  small  lodge,  with  smoke  curling  up 
from  its  top.  An  old  man  lived  in  it,  and  I  dreamed 
that  he  helped  me,  and  may  my  dream  be  verified 
soon." 

Having  said  this,  he  ran  forward  and  gave  a  yell 
and  howl.  They  came  upon  a  piece  of  rising 
ground,  and,  behold  !  a  lodge  with  smoke  curling 
from  its  top  appeared  before  them.  This  gave  them 
all  new  strength,  and  they  ran  forward  and  entered 
the  lodge.  In  it  they  found  an  old  man,  to  whom 
the  leader  said — 

"  Nemesho  (my  grandfather),  help  us.  We  ask 
your  protection,  for  the  great  bear  would  kill  us. " 

"  Sit  down  and  eat,  my  grandchildren,"  said  the 
old  man.  "  Who  is  a  great  manito  ?  There  is  none 


100  INDIAN  FOLKLORE. 

but  me  ;  but  let  me  look  ; "  and  he  opened  the  door 
of  the  lodge,  and  saw  at  a  little  distance  the  enraged 
bear  coming  on  with  slow  but  great  leaps.  The  old 
man  closed  the  door. 

"  Yes,"  said  he ;  "he  is  indeed  a  great  manito. 
My  grandchildren,  you  will  be  the  cause  of  my  losing 
my  life.  You  asked  my  protection,  and  I  granted 
it ;  so  now,  come  what  may,  I  will  protect  you. 
When  the  bear  arrives  at  the  door  you  must  run 
out  at  the  other  end  of  the  lodge." 

Putting  his  hand  to  the  side  of  the  lodge  where  he 
sat,  he  took  down  a  bag,  and,  opening  it,  took  out  of 
it  two  small  black  dogs,  which  he  placed  before  him. 

"  These  are  the  ones  I  use  when  I  fight,"  said  he, 
and  he  commenced  patting  with  both  hands  the  sides 
of  one  of  the  dogs,  which  at  once  commenced  to 
swell  out  until  it  filled  the  lodge,  and  it  had  great 
strong  teeth.  When  the  dog  had  attained  its  full 
size  it  growled,  and,  springing  out  at  the  door,  met 
the  bear,  which,  in  another  leap,  would  have  reached 
the  lodge.  A  terrible  combat  ensued.  The  sky  rang 
with  the  howls  of  the  monsters.  In  a  little  while  the 
second  dog  took  the  field.  At  the  commencement 
of  the  battle  the  brothers,  acting  on  the  advice  of 
the  old  man,  escaped  through  the  opposite  side  of 
the  lodge.  They  had  not  proceeded  far  in  their 
Hight  before  they  heard  the  death-cry  of  one  of  the 
dogs,  and  soon  after  that  of  the  other. 

"Well,"  said  the  leader,  "the  old  man  will  soon 
share  their  fate,  so  run,  run  !  the  bear  will  soon  be 
after  us." 


THE   UNDYING    HEAD.  101 

The  brothers  started  with  fresh  vigour,  for  the  old 
man  had  refreshed  them  with  food ;  but  the  bear 
very  soon  came  in  sight  again,  and  was  evidently 
fast  gaining  upon  them.  Again  the  leader  asked 
the  warriors  if  they  knew  of  any  way  in  which  to 
save  themselves.  All  were  silent.  Running  forward 
with  a  yell  and  a  howl,  the  leader  said — 

"  I  dreamed  once  that,  being  in  great  trouble,  an 
old  man,  who  was  a  manito,  helped  me.  We  shall 
soon  see  his  lodge." 

Taking  courage,  the  brothers  still  went  on,  and, 
after  going  a  short  distance,  they  saw  a  lodge. 
Entering  it,  they  found  an  old  man,  whose  protec 
tion  they  claimed,  saying  that  a  manito  was  pursuing 
them. 

"Eat,"  said  the  old  man,  putting  meat  before 
them.  "Who  is  a  manito?  There  is  no  manito 
but  me.  There  is  none  whom  I  fear." 

Then  he  felt  the  earth  tremble  as  the  bear  ap 
proached,  and,  opening  the  door  of  the  lodge,  he 
saw  it  coming.  The  old  man  shut  the  door  slowly, 
and  said — 

"  Yes,  my  grandchildren,  you  have  brought  trouble 
upon  me." 

Taking  his  medicine  sack,  he  took  out  some  small 
war-clubs  of  black  stone,  and  told  the  young  men 
to  run  through  the  other  side  of  the  lodge.  As  he 
handled  the  clubs  they  became  an  enormous  size, 
and  the  old  man  stepped  out  as  the  bear  reached 
the  door.  He  struck  the  beast  with  one  of  his  clubs, 
which  broke  in  pieces,  and  the  bear  stumbled.  The 


102  INDIAN   FOLKLORE. 

old  man  struck  it  again  with  the  other  club,  and 
that  also  broke,  but  the  bear  fell  insensible.  Each 
blow  the  old  man  struck  sounded  like  a  clap  of 
thunder,  and  the  howls  of  the  bear  ran  along  the 
skies. 

The  brothers  had  gone  some  distance  before  they 
looked  back.  They  then  saw  that  the  bear  was 
recovering  from  the  blows.  First  it  moved  its  paws, 
and  then  they  saw  it  rise  to  its  feet.  The  old  man 
shared  the  fate  of  the  first,  for  the  warriors  heard 
his  cries  as  he  was  torn  in  pieces.  Again  the  monster 
was  in  pursuit,  and  fast  overtaking  them.  Not  yet 
discouraged,  the  young  men  kept  on  their  way,  but 
the  bear  was  so  close  to  them  that  the  leader  once 
more  applied  to  his  brothers,  but  they  could  do 
nothing. 

"Well,"  said  he,  "my  dreams  will  soon  be  ex 
hausted.  After  this  I  have  but  one  more." 

He  advanced,  invoking  his  guardian  spirit  to  aid 
him. 

"Once,"  said  he,  "I  dreamed  that,  being  sorely 
pressed,  I  came  to  a  large  lake,  on  the  shore  of 
which  was  a  canoe,  partly  out  of  water,  and  having 
ten  paddles  all  in  readiness.  Do  not  fear,"  he  cried, 
"  we  shall  soon  get  to  it." 

It  happened  as  he  had  said.  Coming  to  the  lake, 
the  warriors  found  the  canoe  with  the  ten  paddles, 
and  immediately  took  their  places  in  it.  Putting 
off,  they  paddled  to  the  centre  of  the  lake,  when 
they  saw  the  bear  on  the  shore.  Lifting  itself  on 
its  hind-legs,  it  looked  all  around.  Then  it  waded 


THE    UNDYING    HEAD.  103 

into  the  water  until,  losing  its  footing,  it  turned 
back,  and  commenced  making  the  circuit  of  the  lake. 
Meanwhile  the  warriors  remained  stationary  in  the 
centre  watching  the  animal's  movements.  It  travelled 
round  till  it  came  to  the  place  whence  it  started. 
Then  it  commenced  drinking  up  the  water,  and  the 
young  men  saw  a  strong  current  fast  setting  in 
towards  the  bear's  mouth.  The  leader  encouraged 
them  to  paddle  hard  for  the  opposite  shore.  This 
they  had  nearly  reached,  when  the  current  became 
too  strong  for  them,  and  they  were  drawn  back  by  it, 
and  the  stream  carried  them  onwards  to  the  bear. 

Then  the  leader  again  spoke,  telling  his  comrades 
to  meet  their  fate  bravely. 

"Now  is  the  time,  Mudjikewis/'  said  he,  "to 
show  your  prowess.  Take  courage,  and  sit  in  the 
bow  of  the  canoe,  and,  when  it  approaches  the  bear's 
mouth,  try  what  effect  your  club  will  have  on  the 
beast's  head. " 

Mudjikewis  obeyed,  and,  taking  his  place,  stood 
ready  to  give  the  blow,  while  the  leader,  who 
steered,  directed  the  canoe  to  the  open  mouth  of  the 
monster. 

Rapidly  advancing,  the  canoe  was  just  about  to 
enter  the  bear's  mouth,  when  Mudjikewis  struck  the 
beast  a  tremendous  blow  on  the  head,  and  gave  the 
saw-saw-quan.  The  bear's  limbs  doubled  under  it, 
and  it  fell  stunned  by  the  blow,  but  before  Mudjike 
wis  could  strike  again  the  monster  sent  from  its 
mouth  all  the  water  it  had  swallowed  with  such 
force  that  the  canoe  was  immediately  carried  by  the 


104  INDIAN   FOLKLORE. 

stream  to  the  other  side  of  the  lake.  Leaving  the 
canoe,  the  brothers  fled,  and  on  they  went  till  they 
were  completely  exhausted.  Again  they  felt  the 
earth  shake,  and,  looking  back,  saw  the  monster 
hard  after  them.  The  young  men's  spirits  drooped, 
and  they  felt  faint-hearted.  With  words  and  actions 
the  leader  exerted  himself  to  cheer  them,  and  once 
more  he  asked  them  if  they  could  do  nothing,  or 
think  of  nothing,  that  might  save  them.  All  were 
silent  as  before. 

"Then,"  said  he,  "this  is  the  last  time  I  can 
apply  to  my  guardian  spirit.  If  we  do  not  now 
succeed,  our  fate  is  decided." 

He  ran  forward,  invoking  his  spirit  with  great 
earnestness,  and  gave  the  yell. 

"We  shall  soon  arrive,"  said  he  to  his  brothers, 
"  at  the  place  where  my  last  guardian  spirit  dwells. 
In  him  I  place  great  confidence.  Do  not  be  afraid, 
or  your  limbs  will  be  fear-bound.  We  shall  soon 
reach  his  lodge.  Run,  run  !  " 

What  had  in  the  meantime  passed  in  the  lodge  of 
lamo  1  He  had  remained  in  the  same  condition,  his 
head  in  the  sack,  directing  his  sister  where  to  place  the 
arrows  to  procure  food,  and  speaking  at  long  intervals. 

One  day  the  girl  saw  the  eyes  of  the  head  brighten 
as  if  with  pleasure.  At  last  it  spoke. 

"  0  sister  !  "  it  said,  "  in  what  a  pitiful  situation 
you  have  been  the  cause  of  placing  me  !  Soon, 
very  soon,  a  band  of  young  men  will  arrive  and 
apply  to  me  for  aid  ;  but  alas  !  how  can  I  give 
what  I  would  with  so  much  pleasure  have  afforded 


THE  UNDYING  HEAD.  105 

them  ?  Nevertheless,  take  two  arrows,  and  place 
them  where  you  have  been  in  the  habit  of  placing 
the  others,  and  have  meat  cooked  and  prepared 
before  they  arrive.  When  you  hear  them  coming, 
and  calling  on  my  name,  go  out  and  say,  '  Alas  !  it 
is  long  ago  since  an  accident  befell  him.  I  was  the 
cause  of  it.'  If  they  still  come  near,  ask  them  in, 
and  set  meat  before  them.  Follow  my  directions 
strictly.  A  bear  will  come.  Go  out  and  meet  him, 
taking  my  medicine  sack,  bow  and  arrows,  and  my 
head.  You  must  then  untie  the  sack,  and  spread 
out  before  you  my  paints  of  all  colours,  my  war 
eagle-feathers,  my  tufts  of  dried  hair,  and  whatso 
ever  else  the  sack  contains.  As  the  bear  approaches 
take  these  articles,  one  by  one,  and  say  to  him, 
'  This  is  my  dead  brother's  paint,'  and  so  on  with  all 
the  articles,  throwing  each  of  them  as  far  from  you 
as  you  can.  The  virtue  contained  in  the  things  will 
cause  him  to  totter.  Then,  to  complete  his  destruc 
tion,  you  must  take  my  head  and  cast  it  as  far  off' 
as  you  can,  crying  aloud,  '  See,  this  is  my  dead 
brother's  head  ! '  He  will  then  fall  senseless.  While 
this  is  taking  place  the  young  men  will  have  eaten, 
and  you  must  call  them  to  your  aid.  You  will,  with 
their  assistance,  cut  the  carcass  of  the  bear  into 
pieces — into  small  pieces — and  scatter  them  to  the 
winds,  for  unless  you  do  this  he  will  again  come  to 
life." 

The  sister  promised  that  all  should  be  done  as  he 
commanded,  and  she  had  only  time  to  prepare  the 
meal  when  the  voice  of  the  leader  of  the  band  of 


106  INDIAN   FOLKLORE. 

warriors  was  heard  calling  on  lamo  for  aid.  The 
girl  went  out  and  did  as  she  had  been  directed. 
She  invited  the  brothers  in  and  placed  meat  before 
them,  and  while  they  were  eating  the  bear  was  heard 
approaching.  Untying  the  medicine  sack  and  taking 
the  head  the  girl  made  all  ready  for  its  approach. 
When  it  came  up  she  did  as  her  brother  directed, 
and  before  she  had  cast  down  all  the  paints  the  bear 
began  to  totter,  but,  still  advancing,  came  close  to 
her.  Then  she  took  the  head  and  cast  it  from  her 
as  far  as  she  could,  and  as  it  rolled  upon  the  ground 
the  bear,  tottering,  fell  with  a  tremendous  noise. 
The  girl  cried  for  help,  and  the  young  men  rushed 
out. 

Mudjikewis,  stepping  up,  gave  a  yell,  and  struck 
the  bear  a  blow  on  the  head.  This  he  repeated  till 
he  had  dashed  out  its  brains.  Then  the  others,  as 
quickly  as  possible,  cut  the  monster  up  into  very 
small  pieces  and  scattered  them  in  all  directions. 
As  they  were  engaged  in  this  they  were  surprised  to 
find  that  wherever  the  flesh  was  thrown  small  black 
bears  appeared,  such  as  are  seen  at  the  present  day, 
which,  starting  up,  ran  away.  Thus  from  this  monster 
the  present  race  of  bears  derives  its  origin. 

Having  overcome  their  pursuer  the  brothers  re 
turned  to  the  lodge,  and  the  girl  gathered  together 
the  articles  she  had  used,  and  placed  the  head  in  the 
sack  again.  The  head  remained  silent,  probably 
from  its  being  fatigued  with  its  exertion  in  over 
coming  the  bear. 

Having  spent  so  much  time,  and  having  traversed 


THE  UNDYING  HEAD.  107 

so  vast  a  country  in  their  flight,  the  young  men 
gave  up  the  idea  of  ever  returning  to  their  own 
country,  and  game  being  plentiful  about  the  lodge, 
they  determined  to  remain  where  they  were.  One 
day  they  moved  off  some  distance  from  the  lodge  for 
the  purpose  of  hunting,  and  left  the  belt  with  the 
girl.  They  were  very  successful,  and  amused  them 
selves  with  talking  and  jesting.  One  of  them 
said — 

"  We  have  all  this  sport  to  ourselves.  Let  us  go 
and  ask  our  sister  if  she  will  not  let  us  bring  the 
head  to  this  place,  for  it  is  still  alive." 

So  they  went  and  asked  for  the  head.  The  girl 
told  them  to  take  it,  and  they  carried  it  to  their 
hunting-grounds  and  tried  to  amuse  it,  but  only  at 
times  did  they  see  its  eyes  beam  with  pleasure.  One 
day,  while  they  were  busy  in  their  encampment,  they 
were  unexpectedly  attacked  by  unknown  enemies. 
The  fight  was  long  and  fierce.  Many  of  the  foes 
were  slain,  but  there  were  thirty  of  them  to  each 
warrior.  The  young  men  fought  desperately  till 
they  were  all  killed,  and  then  the  attacking  party 
retreated  to  a  high  place  to  muster  their  men  and 
count  the  missing  and  the  slain.  One  of  the  men 
had  strayed  away,  and  happened  to  come  to  where 
the  head  was  hung  up.  Seeing  that  it  was  alive 
he  eyed  it  for  some  time  with  fear  and  surprise. 
Then  he  took  it  down,  and  having  opened  the  sack 
he  was  much  pleased  to  see  the  beautiful  feathers, 
one  of  which  he  placed  on  his  head. 

It  waved  gracefully  over  him  as  he  walked  to  his 


108  INDIAN  FOLKLORE. 

companions'  camp,  and  when  he  came  there  he  threw 
down  the  head  and  sack  and  told  his  friends  how  he 
had  found  them,  and  how  the  sack  was  full  of  paints 
and  feathers.  The  men  all  took  the  head  and  made 
sport  of  it.  Many  of  the  young  men  took  the  paint 
and  painted  themselves  with  it  ;  and  one  of  the 
band,  taking  the  head  by  the  hair,  said — 

"  Look,  you  ugly  thing,  and  see  your  paints  on 
the  faces  of  warriors." 

The  feathers  were  so  beautiful  that  many  of  the 
young  men  placed  them  on  their  heads,  and  they 
again  subjected  the  head  to  all  kinds  of  indignity, 
They  were,  however,  soon  punished  for  their  in 
sulting  conduct,  for  all  who  had  worn  the  feathers 
became  sick  and  died.  Then  the  chief  commanded 
the  men  to  throw  all  the  paints  and  feathers  away. 

"As  for  the  head,"  he  said,  "  we  will  keep  that 
and  take  it  home  with  us ;  we  will  there  see  what  we 
can  do  with  it.  We  will  try  to  make  it  shut  its  eyes." 

Meanwhile  for  several  days  the  sister  had  been 
waiting  for  the  brothers  to  bring  back  the  head  ;  till 
at  last,  getting  impatient,  she  went  in  search  of 
them.  She  found  them  lying  within  short  distances 
of  one  another,  dead,  and  covered  with  wounds. 
Other  bodies  lay  scattered  around.  She  searched 
for  the  head  and  sack,  but  they  were  nowhere  to  be 
found,  so  she  raised  her  voice  and  wept,  and  blackened 
her  face.  Then  she  walked  in  different  directions 
till  she  came  to  the  place  whence  the  head  had  been 
taken,  and  there  she  found  the  bow  and  arrows,  which 
had  been  left  behind,  She  searched  further,  hoping 


THE  UNDYING  HEAD.  109 

to  find  her  brother's  head,  and,  when  she  came  to  a 
piece  of  rising  ground  she  found  some  of  his  paints 
and  feathers.  These  she  carefully  put  by,  hanging 
them  to  the  branch  of  a  tree. 

At  dusk  she  came  to  the  first  lodge  of  a  large  village. 
Here  she  used  a  charm  employed  by  Indians  when 
they  wish  to  meet  with  a  kind  reception,  and  on 
applying  to  the  old  man  and  the  woman  who 
occupied  the  lodge  she  was  made  welcome  by  them. 
She  told  them  her  errand,  and  the  old  man,  promis 
ing  to  help  her,  told  her  that  the  head  was  hung  up 
before  the  council  fire,  and  that  the  chiefs  and  young 
men  of  the  village  kept  watch  over  it  continually. 
The  girl  said  she  only  desired  to  see  the  head,  and 
would  be  satisfied  if  she  could  only  get  to  the  door 
of  the  lodge  in  which  it  was  hung,  for  she  knew  she 
could  not  take  it  by  force. 

"Come  with  me,"  said  the  old  man,  "I  will  take 
you  there." 

So  they  went  and  took  their  seats  in  the  lodge  near  to 
the  door.  The  council  lodge  was  filled  with  warriors 
amusing  themselves  with  games,  and  constantly  keep 
ing  up  the  fire  to  smoke  the  head  to  dry  it.  As  the 
girl  entered  the  lodge  the  men  saw  the  features  of  the 
head  move,  and,  not  knowing  what  to  make  of  it, 
one  spoke  and  said — 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  it  is  beginning  to  feel  the  effects  of  the 
smoke." 

The  sister  looked  up  from  the  seat  by  the  door ; 
her  eyes  met  those  of  her  brother,  and  tears  began 
to  roll  down  the  cheeks  of  the  head. 


110  INDIAN  FOLKLORE. 

"  Well,"  said  the  chief,  "  I  thought  we  would  make 
you  do  something  at  last.  Look !  look  at  it  shed 
ding  tears,"  said  he  to  those  around  him,  and  they 
all  laughed  and  made  jokes  upon  it.  The  chief, 
looking  around,  observed  the  strange  girl,  and  after 
some  time  said  to  the  old  man  who  brought  her  in— 

"  Who  have  you  got  there  ?  I  have  never  seen 
that  woman  before  in  our  village." 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  old  man,  "  you  have  seen  her. 
She  is  a  relation  of  mine,  and  seldom  goes  out.  She 
stays  in  my  lodge,  and  she  asked  me  to  bring  her  here." 

In  the  centre  of  the  lodge  sat  one  of  those  young 
men  who  are  always  forward,  and  fond  of  boasting 
and  displaying  themselves  before  others. 

"  Why,"  said  he,  "I  have  seen  her  often,  and  it  is 
to  his  lodge  I  go  almost  every  night  to  court  her." 

All  the  others  laughed  and  continued  their  games. 
The  young  man  did  not  know  he  was  telling  a  lie  to 
the  girl's  advantage,  who  by  means  of  it  escaped. 

She  returned  to  the  old  man's  lodge,  and  immedi 
ately  set  out  for  her  own  country.  Coming  to  the 
spot  where  the  bodies  of  her  adopted  brothers  lay, 
she  placed  them  together  with  their  feet  towards  the 
east.  Then  taking  an  axe  she  had  she  cast  it  up 
into  the  air,  crying  out — 

"  Brothers,  get  up  from  under  it  or  it  will  fall  on 
you!" 

This  she  repeated  three  times,  and  the  third  time 
all  the  brothers  rose  and  stood  on  their  feet.  Mud- 
jikewis  commenced  rubbing  his  eyes  and  stretching 
himself. 


THE  UNDYING  HEAD.  Ill 

"  Why,"  said  he,  "  I  have  overslept  myself." 

"No,  indeed,"  said  one  of  the  others.  "Do  you 
not  know  we  were  all  killed,  and  that  it  is  our  sister 
who  has  brought  us  to  life  ? " 

The  brothers  then  took  the  bodies  of  their  enemies 
and  burned  them.  Soon  after  the  girl  went  to  a  far 
country,  they  knew  not  where,  to  procure  wives  for 
them,  and  she  returned  with  the  women,  whom  she 
gave  to  the  young  men,  beginning  with  the  eldest. 
Mudjikewis  stepped  to  and  fro,  uneasy  lest  he  should 
not  get  the  one  he  liked,  but  he  was  not  disappointed, 
for  she  fell  to  his  lot;  and  the  two  were  well  matched, 
for  she  was  a  female  magician. 

The  young  men  and  their  wives  all  moved  into  a 
very  large  lodge,  and  their  sister  told  them  that  one 
of  the  women  must  go  in  turns  every  night  to  try 
and  recover  the  head  of  her  brother,  untying  the 
knots  by  which  it  was  hung  up  in  the  council  lodge. 
The  women  all  said  they  would  go  with  pleasure. 
The  eldest  made  the  first  attempt.  With  a  rushing 
noise  she  disappeared  through  the  air. 

Towards  daylight  she  returned.  She  had  failed, 
having  only  succeeded  in  untying  one  of  the  knots. 
All  the  women  save  the  youngest  went  in  turn,  and 
each  one  succeeded  in  untying  only  one  knot  each 
time.  At  length  the  youngest  went.  As  soon  as 
she  arrived  at  the  lodge  she  went  to  work.  The 
smoke,  from  the  fire  in  the  lodge  had  not  ascended 
for  ten  nights.  It  now  filled  the  place  and  drove  all 
the  men  out.  The  girl  was  alone,  and  she  carried  off 
the  head. 


112  INDIAN  FOLKLORE. 

The  brothers  and  lamo's  sister  heard  the  young 
woman  coming  high  through  the  air,  and  they  heard 
her  say — 

"  Prepare  the  body  of  our  brother." 

As  soon  as  they  heard  that  they  went  to  where 
lamo's  body  lay,  and,  having  got  it  ready,  as  soon  as 
the  young  woman  arrived  with  the  head  they  placed 
it  to  the  body,  and  lamo  was  restored  in  all  his 
former  manliness  and  beauty.  All  rejoiced  in  the 
happy  termination  of  their  troubles,  and  when  they 
had  spent  some  time  joyfully  together,  lamo  said — 

"Now  I  will  divide  the  treasure,"  and  taking  the 
bear's  belt  he  commenced  dividing  what  it  contained 
amongst  the  brothers,  beginning  with  the  eldest. 
The  youngest  brother,  however,  got  the  most  splendid 
part  of  the  spoil,  for  the  bottom  of  the  belt  held 
what  was  richest  and  rarest. 

Then  lamo  told  them  that,  since  they  had  all  died 
and  been  restored  to  life  again,  they  were  no  longer 
mortals  but  spirits,  and  he  assigned  to  each  of  them 
a  station  in  the  invisible  world.  Only  Mudjikewis' 
place  was,  however,  named.  He  was  to  direct  the 
west  wind.  The  brothers  were  commanded,  as  they 
had  it  in  their  power,  to  do  good  to  the  inhabitants 
of  the  earth,  and  to  give  all  things  with  a  liberal 
hand. 

The  spirits  then,  amid  songs  and  shouts,  took  their 
flight  to  their  respective  places,  while  lamo  and  his 
sister,  Tamoqua,  descended  into  the  depths  below. 


THE  OLD  CHIPPEWAY. 

THE  old  man  Chippeway,  the  first  of  men,  when  he 
first  landed  on  the  earth,  near  where  the  present 
Dogribs  have  their  hunting-grounds,  found  the 
world  a  beautiful  world,  well  stocked  with  food,  and 
abounding  with  pleasant  things.  He  found  no  man, 
woman,  or  child  upon  it ;  but  in  time,  being  lonely, 
he  created  children,  to  whom  he  gave  two  kinds  of 
fruit,  the  black  and  the  white,  but  he  forbade  them 
to  eat  the  black.  Having  given  his  commands  for 
the  government  and  guidance  of  his  family,  he  took 
leave  of  them  for  a  time,  to  go  into  a  far  country 
where  the  sun  dwelt,  for  the  purpose  of  bringing  it 
to  the  earth. 

After  a  very  long  journey,  and  a  long  absence, 
he  returned,  bringing  with  him  the  sun,  and  he 
was  delighted  to  find  that  his  children  had  re 
mained  obedient,  and  had  eaten  only  of  the  white 
food. 

Again  he  left  them  to  go  on  another  expedition. 
The  sun  he  had  brought  lighted  up  the  earth  for 
only  a  short  time,  and  in  the  land  from  which  he 
had  brought  it  he  had  noticed  another  body,  which 


114  INDIAN  FOLKLORE. 

served  as  a  lamp  in  the  dark  hours.  He  resolved 
therefore  to  journey  and  bring  back  with  him  the 
moon;  so,  bidding  adieu  to  his  children  and  his 
dwelling,  he  set  forth  once  more. 

While  he  had  been  absent  on  his  first  expedition, 
his  children  had  eaten  up  all  the  white  food,  and 
now,  when  he  set  out,  he  forgot  to  provide  them 
with  a  fresh  supply.  For  a  long  time  they  resisted 
the  craving  for  food,  but  at  last  they  could  hold  out 
no  longer,  and  satisfied  their  hunger  with  the  black 
fruit. 

The  old  Chippeway  soon  returned,  bringing  with 
him  the  moon.  He  soon  discovered  that  his  children 
had  transgressed  his  command,  and  had  eaten  the 
food  of  disease  and  death.  He  told  them  what  was 
the  consequence  of  their  act — that  in  future  the  earth 
would  produce  bad  fruits,  that  sickness  would  come 
amongst  men,  that  pain  would  rack  them,  and  their 
lives  be  lives  of  fatigue  and  danger. 

Having  brought  the  sun  and  moon  to  the  earth, 
the  old  man  Chippeway  rested,  and  made  no  more 
expeditions.  He  lived  an  immense  number  of  years, 
and  saw  all  the  troubles  he  declared  would  follow 
the  eating  of  the  black  food.  At  last  he  became 
tired  of  life,  and  his  sole  desire  was  to  be  freed 
from  it. 

"  Go,"  said  he,  to  one  of  his  sons,  "  to  the  river 
of  the  Bear  Lake,  and  fetch  me  a  man  of  the  little 
wise  people  (the  beavers).  Let  it  be  one  with  a 
brown  ring  round  the  end  of  the  tail,  and  a  white  spot 
on  the  tip  of  the  nose.  Let  him  be  just  two  seasons 


THE  OLD  CHIPPEWAY.  115 

old  upon  the  first  day  of  the  coming  frog-moon,  and 
see  that  his  teeth  be  sharp." 

The  man  did  as  he  was  directed.  He  went  to  the 
river  of  the  Bear  Lake,  and  brought  a  man  of  the 
little  wise  people.  He  had  a  brown  ring  round  the 
end  of  his  tail,  and  a  white  spot  on  the  tip  of  his 
nose.  He  was  just  two  seasons  old  upon  the  first 
day  of  the  frog-moon,  and  his  teeth  were  very  sharp. 

"Take  the  wise  four-legged  man,"  said  the  old 
Chippeway,  "  and  pull  from  his  jaws  seven  of  his 
teeth." 

The  man  did  as  he  was  directed,  and  brought  the 
teeth  to  the  old  man.  Then  he  bade  him  call  all 
his  people  together,  and  when  they  were  come  the 
old  man  thus  addressed  them — 

"  I  am  old,  and  am  tired  of  life,  and  wish  to  sleep 
the  sleep  of  death.  I  will  go  hence.  Take  the  seven 
teeth  of  the  wise  little  four-legged  man  and  drive 
them  into  my  body." 

They  did  so,  and  as  the  last  tooth  entered  him  the 
old  man  died. 


•MUKUMIK!  MUKUMIK!  MUKUMIK ! 

PAUPPUKKEEWIS  was  a  harum-scarum  fellow  who 
played  many  queer  tricks,  but  he  took  care,  never 
theless,  to  supply  his  family  and  children  with  food. 
Sometimes,  however,  he  was  hard-pressed,  and  once 
he  and  his  whole  family  were  on  the  point  of  starv 
ing.  Every  resource  seemed  to  have  failed.  The 
snow  was  so  deep,  and  the  storm  continued  so  long, 
that  he  could  not  even  find  a  partridge  or  a  hare, 
and  his  usual  supply  of  fish  had  failed  him.  His 
lodge  stood  in  some  woods  not  far  away  from  the 
shores  of  the  Gitchiguma,  or  great  water,,  where  the 
autumnal  storms  had  piled  up  the  ice  into  high  pin 
nacles,  resembling  castles. 

"I  will  go,"  said  he  to  his  family  one  morning, 
"  to  these  castles,  and  solicit  the  pity  of  the  spirits 
who  inhabit  them,  for  I  know  that  they  are  the 
residence  of  some  of  the  spirits  of  Rabiboonoka." 

He  did  so,  and  his  petition  was  not  disregarded. 
The  spirits  told  him  to  fill  his  mushkemoots  or  sacks 
with  the  ice  and  snow,  and  pass  on  towards  his  lodge, 
without  looking  back,  until  he  came  to  a  certain 
hill.  He  was  then  to  drop  his  sacks,  and  leave 

116 


MUKUMIK!  117 

them  till  morning,  when  he  would  find  them  full 
of  fish. 

The  spirits  cautioned  him  that  he  must  by  no 
means  look  back,  although  he  should  hear  a  great 
many  voices  crying  out  to  him  abusing  him ;  for  they 
told  him  such  voices  would  be  in  reality  only  the 
wind  playing  through  the  branches  of  the  trees. 

Pauppukkeewia  faithfully  obeyed  the  directions 
given  him,  although  he  found  it  difficult  to  avoid 
looking  round  to  see  who  was  calling  to  him.  When 
he  visited  the  sacks  in  the  morning,  he  found  them 
filled  with  fish. 

It  happened  that  Manabozho  visited  him  on  the 
morning  when  he  brought  the  fish  home,  and  the 
visitor  was  invited  to  partake  of  the  feast.  While 
they  were  eating,  Manabozho  could  not  help  asking 
where  such  an  abundance  of  food  had  been  procured 
at  a  time  when  most  were  in  a  state  of  starvation. 

Pauppukkeewis  frankly  told  him  the  secret,  and 
and  what  precautions  to  take  to  ensure  success. 
Manabozho  determined  to  profit  by  the  information, 
and,  as  soon  as  he  could,  set  out  to  visit  the  icy 
castles.  All  things  happened  as  Pauppukkeewis  had 
told  him.  The  spirits  appeared  to  be  kind,  and  told 
Manabozho  to  fill  and  carry.  He  accordingly  filled 
his  sacks  with  ice  and  snow,  and  then  walked  off 
quickly  to  the  hill  where  he  was  to  leave  them.  As 
he  went,  however,  he  heard  voices  calling  out  behind 
him. 

"Thief!  thief!  He  has  stolen  fish  from  Rabi- 
boonoka,"  cried  one. 


118  INDIAN  FOLKLORE. 

"Mukumik!  Mukumik !  take  it  away,  take  it 
away,"  cried  another. 

Manabozho's  ears  were  so  assailed  by  all  manner 
of  insulting  cries,  that  at  last  he  got  angry,  and, 
quite  forgetting  the  directions  given  him,  he  turned 
his  head  to  see  who  it  was  that  was  abusing  him. 
He  saw  no  one,  and  proceeded  on  his  way  to  the 
hill,  to  which  he  was  accompanied  by  his  invisible 
tormentors.  He  left  his  bags  of  ice  and  snow  there, 
to  be  changed  into  fish,  and  came  back  the  next 
morning.  His  disobedience  had,  however,  dissolved 
the  charm,  and  he  found  his  bags  still  full  of  rubbish. 

In  consequence  of  this  he  is  condemned  every 
year,  during  the  month  of  March,  to  run  over  the 
hills,  with  Pauppukkeewis  following  him,  crying — 

"  Mukumik  !  Mukumik  •  ' 


THE   SWING   BY   THE   LAKE. 

THERE  was  an  old  hag  of  a  woman  who  lived  with 
her  daughter-in-law  and  her  husband,  with  their  son 
and  a  little  orphan  boy.  When  her  son-in-law  came 
home  from  hunting,  it  was  his  custom  to  bring  his 
wife  the  moose's  lip,  the  kidney  of  the  bear,  or  some 
other  choice  bits  of  different  animals.  These  the 
girl  would  cook  crisp,  so  that  the  sound  of  their 
cracking  could  be  heard  when  she  eat  them.  This 
kind  attention  of  the  hunter  to  his  wife  aroused  the 
envy  of  the  old  woman.  She  wished  to  have  the 
same  luxuries,  and,  in  order  to  obtain  them,  she  at 
last  resolved  to  kill  the  young  wife.  One  day  she 
asked  her  to  leave  her  infant  son  to  the  care  of  the 
orphan  boy,  and  come  out  and  swing  with  her.  The 
wife  consented,  and  the  mother-in-law  took  her  to 
the  shore  of  a  lake,  where  there  was  a  high  ridge  of 
rocks  overhanging  the  water.  Upon  the  top  of 
these  rocks  the  old  woman  put  up  a  swing,  and, 
having  fastened  a  piece  of  leather  round  her  body, 
she  commenced  to  swing  herself,  going  over  the 
precipice  each  time.  She  continued  this  for  a  short 
while,  and  then,  stopping,  told  her  daughter-in-law 

119 


120  INDIAN   FOLKLORE. 

to  take  her  place.  She  did  so,  and,  having  tied  the 
leather  round  her,  began  to  swing  backwards  and 
forwards.  When  she  was  well  going,  sweeping  at 
each  turn  clear  beyond  the  precipice,  the  old  woman 
slyly  cut  the  cords,  and  let  her  drop  into  the  lake. 
She  then  put  on  some  of  the  girl's  clothing,  entered 
the  lodge  in  the  dusk  of  the  evening,  and  went 
about  the  work  in  which  her  daughter-in-law  had 
been  usually  occupied  at  such  a  time.  She  found 
the  child  crying,  and,  since  the  mother  was  not  there 
to  give  it  the  breast,  it  cried  on.  Then  the  orphan 
boy  asked  her  where  the  mother  was. 

"  She  is  still  swinging,"  replied  the  old  woman. 

"  I  will  go,"  said  he,  "  and  look  for  her." 

"  No,"  said  the  old  woman,  "  you  must  not.  What 
would  you  go  for  ? " 

In  the  evening,  when  the  husband  came  in,  he 
gave  the  coveted  morsels  to  what  he  supposed  was 
his  wife.  He  missed  the  old  woman,  but  asked 
nothing  about  her.  Meanwhile  the  woman  eat  the 
morsels,  and  tried  to  quiet  the  child.  The  husband, 
seeing  that  she  kept  her  face  away  from  him,  was 
astonished,  and  asked  why  the  child  cried  so.  His 
pretended  wife  answered  that  she  did  not  know. 

In  the  meantime  the  orphan  boy  went  to  the 
shores  of  the  lake,  where  he  found  no  one.  Then 
he  suspected  the  old  woman,  and,  having  returned 
to  the  lodge,  told  the  hunter,  while  she  was  out 
getting  wood,  all  he  "had  heard  and  seen.  The  man, 
when  he  had  heard  the  story,  painted  his  face  black, 
and  placed  his  spear  upside  down  in  the  earth,  and 


THE  SWING  BY  THE  LAKE.        121 

requested  the  Great  Spirit  to  send  lightning,  thunder, 
and  rain,  in  the  hope  that  the  body  of  his  wife 
might  arise  from  the  water.  He  then  began  to  fast, 
and  told  the  boy  to  take  the  child  and  play  upon 
the  lake  shore. 

Meanwhile  this  is  what  had  happened  to  the  wife. 
After  she  had  plunged  into  the  lake,  she  found  her 
self  in  the  hold  of  a  water- tiger,  who  drew  her  to 
the  bottom.  There  she  found  a  lodge,  and  all  things 
in  it  as  if  arranged  for  her  reception,  and  she  became 
the  water-tiger's  wife. 

Whilst  the  orphan  boy  and  the  child  were  playing 
on  the  shore  of  the  lake  one  day,  the  boy  began  to 
throw  pebbles  into  the  water,  when  suddenly  a  gull 
arose  from  the  centre  of  the  lake,  and  flew  towards 
the  land.  When  it  had  arrived  there,  it  took  human 
shape,  and  the  boy  recognised  that  it  was  the  lost 
mother.  She  had  a  leather  belt  around  her,  and 
another  belt  of  white  metal.  She  suckled  the  baby, 
and,  preparing  to  return  to  the  water,  said  to  the 
boy— 

"  Come  here  with  the  child  whenever  it  cries,  and 
I  will  nurse  it." 

The  boy  carried  the  child  home,  and  told  the 
father  what  had  occurred.  When  the  child  cried 
again,  the  man  went  with  the  boy  to  the  shore,  and 
hid  himself  behind  a  clump  of  trees.  Soon  the  gull 
made  its  appearance,  with  a  long  shining  chain 
attached  to  it.  The  bird  came  to  the  shore,  assumed 
the  mother's  shape,  and  began  to  suckle  the  child. 
The  husband  stood  with  his  spear  in  his  hand, 


122  INDIAN   FOLKLORE. 

wondering  what  he  had  best  do  to  regain  his  wife. 
When  he  saw  her  preparing  to  return  to  the  lake 
he  rushed  forward,  struck  the  shining  chain  with  his 
spear,  and  broke  it.  Then  he  took  his  wife  and 
child  home.  As  he  entered  the  lodge  the  old 
woman  looked  up,  and,  when  she  saw  the  wife,  she 
dropped  her  head  in  despair.  A  rustling  was  heard 
in  the  place  ;  the  next  moment  the  old  woman  leaped 
up,  flew  out  of  the  lodge,  and  was  never  heard  of 
more. 


THE   FIRE   PLUME. 

WASSAMO  was  living  with  his  parents  on  the  shores 
of  a  large  bay  on  the  east  coast  of  Lake  Michigan. 
It  was  at  a  period  when  nature  spontaneously  fur 
nished  everything  that  was  wanted,  when  the 
Indians  used  skins  for  clothing,  and  flints  for  arrow 
heads.  It  was  long  before  the  time  that  the  flag  of 
the  white  man  had  first  been  seen  in  these  lakes,  or 
the  sound  of  an  iron  axe  had  been  heard.  The 
skill  of  our  people  supplied  them  with  weapons  to 
kill  game,  with  instruments  to  procure  bark  for  their 
canoes,  and  they  knew  to  dress  and  cook  their  victuals. 

One  day,  when  the  season  had  commenced  for 
fish  to  be  plentiful  near  the  shore  of  the  lake, 
Wassamo's  mother  said  to  him — 

"My  son,  I  wish  you  would  go  to  yonder  point, 
and  see  if  you  cannot  procure  me  some  fish.  You 
may  ask  your  cousin  to  accompany  you." 

He  did  so.  They  set  out,  and,  in  the  course  of 
the  afternoon,  arrived  at  the  fishing-ground.  His 
cousin  attended  to  the  nets,  for  he  was  grown  up  to 
manhood,  but  Wassamo  had  not  yet  reached  that 
age.  They  put  their  nets  in  the  water,  and  encamped 

123 


124  INDIAN   FOLKLORE. 

near  them,  using  only  a  few  pieces  of  birch-bark  for 
a  lodge  to  shelter  them  at  night.  They  lit  a  fire,  and, 
while  they  were  conversing  together,  the  moon 
arose.  Not  a  breath  of  wind  disturbed  the  smooth 
and  bright  surface  of  the  lake.  Not  a  cloud  was 
seen.  Wassamo  looked  out  on  the  water  towards 
their  nets,  and  saw  that  almost  all  the  floats  had 
disappeared. 

"  Cousin,"  he  said,  "  let  us  visit  our  nets.  Perhaps 
we  are  fortunate." 

They  did  so,  and  were  rejoiced,  as  they  drew  them 
up,  to  see  the  meshes  white  here  and  there  with 
fish.  They  landed  in  good  spirits,  and  put  away 
their  canoe  in  safety  from  the  winds. 

"  Wassamo,"  said  his  cousin,  "  you  cook  that  we 
may  eat." 

Wassamo  set  about  it  immediately,  and  soon  got 
his  kettle  on  the  flames,  while  his  cousin  was  lying  at 
his  ease  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  fire. 

"Cousin,"  said  Wassamo,  "tell  me  stories,  or  sing 
me  some  love-songs." 

The  other  obeyed,  and  sang  his  plaintive  songs. 
He  would  frequently  break  off,  and  tell  parts  of 
stories,  and  would  then  sing  again,  as  suited  his 
feelings  or  fancy.  While  thus  employed,  he  uncon 
sciously  fell  asleep.  Wassamo  had  scarcely  noticed 
it  in  his  care  to  watch  the  kettle,  and,  when  the  fish 
were  done,  he  took  the  kettle  off.  He  spoke  to  his 
cousin,  but  received  no  answer.  He  took  the  wooden 
ladle  to  skim  off  the  oil,  for  the  fish  were  very  fat. 
He  had  a  flambeau  of  twisted  bark  in  one  hand  to 


THE   FIRE   PLUME.  125 

give  light ;  but,  when  he  came  to  take  out  the  fish, 
he  did  not  know  how  to  manage  to  hold  the  light,  so 
he  took  off  his  garters,  and  tied  them  tight  round 
his  head,  and  then  placed  the  lighted  flambeau  above 
his  forehead,  so  that  it  was  firmly  held  by  the 
bandage,  and  threw  its  light  brilliantly  about  him. 
Having  both  hands  thus  at  liberty,  he  began  to  take 
out  the  fish.  Suddenly  he  heard  a  laugh. 

"Cousin,"  said  he,  "some  one  is  near  us.  Awake, 
and  let  us  look  out." 

His  cousin,  however,  continued  asleep.  Again 
Wassamo  heard  the  laughter,  and,  looking,  he  beheld 
two  beautiful  girls. 

"  Awake,  awake,"  said  he  to  his  cousin.  "  Here 
are  two  young  women  ; "  but  he  received  no  answer, 
for  his  cousin  was  locked  in  his  deepest  slumbers. 

Wassamo  started  up  and  advanced  to  the  strange 
women.  He  was  about  to  speak  to  them,  when  he 
fell  senseless  to  the  earth. 

A  short  while  after  his  cousin  awohe.  He  looked 
around  and  called  Wassamo,  but  could  not  find 
him. 

"  Netawis,  Netawis  (Cousin,  cousin) !  "  he  cried  ; 
but  there  was  no  answer.  He  searched  the  woods 
and  all  the  shores  around,  but  could  not  find  him. 
He  did  not  know  what  to  do. 

"Although,"  he  reasoned,  "his  parents  are  my 
relations,  and  they  know  he  and  I  were  great 
friends,  they  will  not  believe  me  if  I  go  home  and 
say  that  he  is  lost.  They  will  say  that  I  killed  him, 
and  will  require  blood  for  blood." 


126  INDIAN  FOLKLORE. 

However,  he  resolved  to  return  home,  and,  arriv 
ing  there,  he  told  them  what  had  occurred.  Some 
said,  "  He  has  killed  him  treacherously,"  others  said, 
"  It  is  impossible.  They  were  like  brothers." 

Search  was  made  on  every  side,  and  when  at 
length  it  became  certain  that  Wassamo  was  not  to 
be  found,  his  parents  demanded  the  life  of  Netawis. 

Meanwhile,  what  had  happened  to  Wassamo  *? 
When  he  recovered  his  senses,  he  found  himself 
stretched  on  a  bed  in  a  spacious  lodge. 

"Stranger,"  said  some  one,  " awake,  and  take 
something  to  eat." 

Looking  around  him  he  saw  many  people,  and  an 
old  spirit  man,  addressing  him,  said — 

"My  daughters  saw  you  at  the  fishing-ground, 
and  brought  you  here.  I  am  the  guardian  spirit  of 
Nagow  Wudjoo  (the  sand  mountains).  We  will 
make  your  visit  here  agreeable,  and  if  you  will 
remain  I  will  give  you  one  of  my  daughters  in 
marriage." 

The  young  man  consented  to  the  match,  and  re 
mained  for  some  time  with  the  spirit  of  the  sand 
hills  in  his  lodge  at  the  bottom  of  the  lake,  for 
there  was  it  situated.  At  last,  however,  approached 
the  season  of  sleep,  when  the  spirit  and  his  relations 
lay  down  for  their  long  rest. 

"Son-in-law,"  said  the  old  spirit,  "you  can  now, 
in  a  few  days,  start  with  your  wife  to  visit  your 
relations.  You  can  be  absent  one  year,  but  after 
that  you  must  return." 

Wassamo  promised  to  obey,  and  set  out  with  his 


THE  FIRE  PLUME.  127 

wife.  When  he  was  near  his  village,  he  left  her  in 
a  thicket  and  advanced  alone.  As  he  did  so,  who 
should  he  meet  but  his  cousin. 

"Netawis,  Netawis,"  cried  his  cousin,  "you  have 
come  just  in  time  to  save  me  !  " 

Then  he  ran  off  to  the  lodge  of  Wassamo's 
parents. 

"  I  have  seen  him,"  said  he,  "  whom  you  accuse 
me  of  having  killed.  He  will  be  here  in  a  few 
minutes." 

All  the  village  was  soon  in  a  bustle,  and  VVassamo 
and  his  wife  excited  universal  attention,  and  the 
people  strove  who  should  entertain  them  best.  So 
the  time  passed  happily  till  the  season  came  that 
Wassamo  and  his  wife  should  return  to  the  spirits. 
Netawis  accompanied  them  to  the  shores  of  the 
lake,  and  would  have  gone  with  them  to  their 
strange  abode,  but  Wassamo  sent  him  back.  With 
him  Wassamo  took  offerings  from  the  Indians  to  his 
father-in-law. 

The  old  spirit  was  delighted  to  see  the  two  re 
turn,  and  he  was  also  much  pleased  with  the 
presents  Wassamo  brought.  He  told  his  son-in-law 
that  he  and  his  wife  should  go  once  more  to  visit 
his  people. 

"  It  is  merely,"  said  he,  "  to  assure  them  of  my 
friendship,  and  to  bid  them  farewell  for  ever." 

Some  time  afterwards  Wassamo  and  his  wife 
made  this  visit.  Having  delivered  his  message,  he 

I  must  now  bid  you  all  farewell  for  ever." 


128  INDIAN  FOLKLORE. 

His  parents  and  friends  raised  their  voices  in  loud 
lamentation,  and  they  accompanied  him  and  his  wife 
to  the  sand-banks  to  see  them  take  their  departure. 

The  day  was  mild,  the  sky  clear,  not  a  cloud 
appeared,  nor  was  there  a  breath  of  wind  to  disturb 
the  bright  surface  of  the  water.  The  most  perfect 
silence  reigned  throughout  the  company.  They 
gazed  intently  upon  Wassamo  and  his  wife  as  they 
waded  out  into  the  water,  waving  their  hands. 
They  saw  them  go  into  deeper  and  deeper  water. 
They  saw  the  wave  close  over  their  heads.  All  at 
once  they  raised  a  loud  and  piercing  wail.  They 
looked  again.  A  red  flame,  as  if  the  sun  had 
glanced  on  a  billow,  marked  the  spot  for  an  instant ; 
but  the  Feather-of-Flames  and  his  wife  had  dis 
appeared  for  ever. 


THE  JOURNEY  TO  THE  ISLAND  OF  SOULS. 

ONCE  upon  a  time  there  lived  in  the  nation  of  the 
Chippeways  a  most  beautiful  maiden,  the  flower  of 
the  wilderness,  the  delight  and  wonder  of  all  who 
saw  her.  She  was  called  the  Rock-rose,  and  was 
beloved  by  a  youthful  hunter,  whose  advances  gained 
her  affection.  No  one  was  like  the  brave  Outalissa 
in  her  eyes :  his  deeds  were  the  greatest,  his  skill 
was  the  most  wonderful.  It  was  not  permitted 
them,  however,  to  become  the  inhabitants  of  one 
lodge.  Death  came  to  the  flower  of  the  Chippeways. 
In  the  morning  of  her  days  she  died,  and  her  body 
was  laid  in  the  dust  with  the  customary  rites  of 
burial.  All  mourned  for  her,  but  Outalissa  was  a 
changed  man.  No  more  did  he  find  delight  in  the 
chase  or  on  the  war-path.  He  grew  sad,  shunned 
the  society  of  his  brethren.  He  stood  motionless  as 
a  tree  in  the  hour  of  calm,  as  the  wave  that  is 
frozen  up  by  the  breath  of  the  cold  wind. 

Joy  came  no  more  to  him.  He  told  his  discon 
tent  in  the  ears  of  his  people,  and  spoke  of  his 
determination  to  seek  his  beloved  maiden.  She  had 
but  removed,  he  said,  as  the  birds  fly  away  at  the 

Indian  -r 


130  INDIAN  FOLKLORE. 

approach  of  winter,  and  it  required  but  due  dili 
gence  on  his  part  to  find  her.  Having  prepared 
himself,  as  a  hunter  makes  ready  for  a  long  journey, 
he  armed  himself  with  his  war-spear  and  bow  and 
arrow,  and  set  out  to  the  Land  of  Souls. 

Directed  by  the  old  tradition  of  his  fathers,  he 
travelled  south  to  reach  that  region,  leaving  behind 
him  the  great  star.  As  he  moved  onwards,  he 
found  a  more  pleasant  region  succeeding  to  that  in 
which  he  had  lived.  Daily,  hourly,  he  remarked 
the  change.  The  ice  grew  thinner,  the  air  warmer, 
the  trees  taller.  Birds,  such  as  he  had  never  seen 
before,  sang  in  the  bushes,  and  fowl  of  many  kinds 
were  pluming  themselves  in  the  warm  sun  on  the 
shores  of  the  lake.  The  gay  woodpecker  was  tap 
ping  the  hollow  beech,  the  swallow  and  the  martin 
were  skimming  along  the  level  of  the  green  vales. 
He  heard  no  more  the  cracking  of  branches  beneath 
the  weight  of  icicles  and  snow,  he  saw  no  more  the 
spirits  of  departed  men  dancing  wild  dances  on  the 
skirts  of  the  northern  clouds,  and  the  farther  he" 
travelled  the  milder  grew  the  skies,  the  longer  was 
the  period  of  the  sun's  stay  upon  the  earth,  and  the 
softer,  though  less  brilliant,  the  light  of  the  moon. 

Noting  these  changes  as  he  went  with  a  joyful 
heart,  for  they  were  indications  of  his  near  approach 
to  the  land  of  joy  and  delight,  he  came  at  length  to 
a  cabin  situated  on  the  brow  of  a  steep  hill  in  the 
middle  of  a  narrow  road.  At  the  door  of  this  cabin 
stood  a  man  of  a  most  ancient  and  venerable  ap 
pearance.  He  was  bent  nearly  double  with  age. 


THE  JOURNEY  TO  THE  ISLAND  OF  SOULS.         131 

His  locks  were  white  as  snow.  His  eyes  were  sunk 
very  far  into  his  head,  and  the  flesh  was  wasted 
from  his  bones,  till  they  were  like  trees  from  which 
the  bark  has  been  peeled.  He  was  clothed  in  a  robe 
of  white  goat's  skin,  and  a  long  staff  supported  his 
tottering  limbs  whithersoever  he  walked. 

The  Chippeway  began  to  tell  him  who  he  was,  and 
why  he  had  come  thither,  but  the  aged  man  stopped 
him,  telling  him  he  knew  upon  what  errand  he  was 
bent. 

"A  short  while  before,"  said  he,  "there  passed 
the  soul  of  a  tender  and  lovely  maiden,  well- 
known  to  the  son  of  the  Eed  Elk,  on  her  way 
to  the  beautiful  island.  She  was  fatigued  with  her 
long  journey,  and  rested  a  while  in  this  cabin.  She 
told  me  the  story  of  your  love,  and  was  persuaded 
that  you  would  attempt  to  follow  her  to  the  Lake  of 
Spirits. 

The  old  man,  further,  told  Outalissa  that  if  he 
made  speed  he  might  hope  to  overtake  the  maiden 
on  the  way.  Before,  however,  he  resumed  his 
journey  he  must  leave  behind  him  his  body,  his 
spear,  bow,  and  arrows,  which  the  old  man  promised 
to  keep  for  him  should  he  return.  The  Chippeway 
left  his  body  and  arms  behind  him,  and  under  the 
direction  of  the  old  man  entered  upon  the  road  to 
the  Blissful  Island.  He  had  travelled  but  a  couple 
of  bowshots  when  it  met  his  view,  even  more  beauti 
ful  than  his  fathers  had  painted  it. 

He  stood  upon  the  brow  of  a  hill  which  sloped 
gently  down  to  the  water  of  a  lake  which  stretched 


132  INDIAN    FOLKLORE. 

as  far  as  eye  could  see.  Upon  its  banks  were  groves 
of  beautiful  trees  of  all  kinds,  and  many  canoes  were 
to  be  seen  gliding  over  its  water.  Afar,  in  the 
centre  of  the  lake,  lay  the  beautiful  island  appointed 
for  the  residence  of  the  good.  He  walked  down  to 
the  shore  and  entered  a  canoe  which  stood  ready  for 
him,  made  of  a  shining  white  stone.  Seizing  the 
paddle,  he  pushed  off  from  the  shore  and  commenced 
to  make  his  way  to  the  island.  As  he  did  so,  he 
came  to  a  canoe  like  his  own,  in  which  he  found  her 
whom  he  was  in  pursuit  of.  She  recognised  him,  and 
the  two  canoes  glided  side  by  side  over  the  water. 
Then  Outalissa  knew  that  he  was  on  the  Water  of 
Judgment,  the  great  water  over  which  every  soul 
must  pass  to  reach  the  beautiful  island,  or  in  which 
it  must  sink  to  meet  the  punishment  of  the  wicked. 
The  two  lovers  glided  on  in  fear,  for  the  water 
seemed  at  times  ready  to  swallow  them,  and  around 
them  they  could  see  many  canoes,  which  held  those 
whose  lives  had  been  wicked,  going  down.  The 
Master  of  Life  had,  however,  decreed  that  they 
should  pass  in  safety,  and  they  reached  the  shores  of 
the  beautiful  island,  on  which  they  landed  full  of  joy. 
It  is  impossible  to  tell  the  delights  with  which 
they  found  it  filled.  Mild  and  soft  winds,  clear  and 
sweet  waters,  cool  and  refreshing  shades,  perpetual 
verdure,  inexhaustible  fertility,  met  them  on  all  sides. 
Gladly  would  the  son  of  the  Eed  Elk  have  remained 
for  ever  with  his  beloved  in  the  happy  island,  but 
the  words  of  the  Master  of  Life  came  to  him  in  the 
pauses  of  the  breeze,  saying — 


THE  JOURNEY   TO   THE   ISLAND   OF  SOULS.    133 

"  Go  back  to  thy  own  land,  hunter.  Your  time 
has  not  yet  come.  You  have  not  yet  performed  the 
work  I  have  for  you  to  do,  nor  can  you  yet  enjoy 
those  pleasures  which  belong  to  them  who  have 
performed  their  allotted  task  on  earth.  Go  back, 
then.  In  time  thou  shalt  rejoin  her,  the  love  of 
whom  has  brought  thee  hither." 


MACHINITOU,  THE  EVIL  SPIRIT. 

CHEMANITOU,  being  the  Master  of  Life,  at  one 
time  became  the  origin  of  a  spirit  that  has  ever 
since  caused  him  and  all  others  of  his  creation  a 
great  deal  of  disquiet.  His  birth  was  owing  to  an 
accident.  It  was  in  this  wise  : — 

Metowac,  or  as  the  white  psople  now  call  it, 
Long  Island,  was  originally  a  vast  plain,  so  level  and 
free  from  any  kind  of  growth  that  it  looked  like  a 
portion  of  the  great  sea  that  had  suddenly  been 
made  to  move  back  and  let  the  sand  below  appear, 
which  was,  in  fact,  the  case. 

Here  it  was  that  Chemanitou  used  to  come  and 
sit  when  he  wished  to  bring  any  new  creation  to 
life.  The  place  being  spacious  and  solitary,  the 
water  upon  every  side,  he  had  not  only  room  enough, 
but  was  free  from  interruption. 

It  is  well  known  that  some  of  these  early  creations 
were  of  very  great  size,  so  that  very  few  could  live 
in  the  same  place,  and  their  strength  made  it 
difficult  for  even  Chemanitou  to  control  them,  for 
when  he  has  given  them  certain  powers  they  have 
the  use  of  the  laws  that  govern  those  powers,  till 

134 


MACHIN1TOU,    THE   EVIL   SPIRIT.  135 

it  is  his  will  to  take  them  back  to  himself.  Accord 
ingly  it  was  the  custom  of  Chemanitou,  when  he 
wished  to  try  the  effect  of  these  creatures,  to  set 
them  in  motion  upon  the  island  of  Metowac,  and  if 
they  did  not  please  him,  he  took  the  life  away  from 
them  again.  He  would  set  up  a  mammoth,  or  other 
large  animal,  in  the  centre  of  the  island,  and  build 
it  up  with  great  care,  somewhat  in  the  manner  that 
a  cabin  or  a  canoe  is  made. 

Even  to  this  day  may  be  found  traces  of  what 
had  been  done  here  in  former  years,  and  the  manner 
in  which  the  earth  sometimes  sinks  down  shows  that 
this  island  is  nothing  more  than  a  great  cake  of 
earth,  a  sort  of  platter  laid  upon  the  sea  for  the 
convenience  of  Chemanitou,  who  used  it  as  a  table 
upon  which  he  might  work,  never  having  designed 
it  for  anything  else,  the  margin  of  the  Chatiemac 
(the  stately  swan),  or  Hudson  river,  being  better 
adapted  to  the  purposes  of  habitation. 

When  the  Master  of  Life  wished  to  build  up  an 
elephant  or  mammoth,  he  placed  four  cakes  of  clay 
upon  the  ground,  at  proper  distances,  which  were 
moulded  into  shape,  and  became  the  feet  of  the 
animal. 

Now  sometimes  these  were  left  unfinished,  and  to 
this  day  the  green  tussocks  to  be  seen  like  little 
islands  about  the  marshes  show  where  these  cakes 
of  clay  were  placed. 

As  Chemanitou  went  on  with  his  work,  the 
Neebanawbaigs  (or  water-spirits),  the  Puck-wud- 
jinnies  (little  men  who  vanish),  and,  indeed,  all  the 


136  INDIAN   FOLKLORE. 

lesser  manitoes,  used  to  come  and  look  on,  and 
wonder  what  it  would  be,  and  how  it  would  act. 

When  the  animal  was  completed,  and  had  dried 
a  long  time  in  the  sun,  Chemanitou  opened  a  place 
in  the  side,  and,  entering  in,  remained  there  many 
days. 

When  he  came  forth  the  creature  began  to  shiver 
and  sway  from  side  to  side,  in  such  a  manner  as 
shook  the  whole  island  for  leagues.  If  its  appear 
ance  pleased  the  Master  of  Life  it  was  suffered  to 
depart,  and  it  was  generally  found  that  these 
animals  plunged  into  the  open  sea  upon  the  north 
side  of  the  island,  and  disappeared  in  the  great 
forests  beyond. 

Now  at  one  time  Chemanitou  was  a  very  long 
time  building  an  animal  of  such  great  bulk  that  it 
looked  like  a  mountain  upon  the  centre  of  the  island, 
and  all  the  manitoes  from  all  parts  came  to  see 
what  it  was.  The  Puck-wud-jinnies  especially  made 
themselves  very  merry,  capering  behind  its  great 
ears,  sitting  within  its  mouth,  each  perched  upon  a 
tooth,  and  running  in  and  out  of  the  sockets  of  the 
eyes,  thinking  Chemanitou,  who  was  finishing  off 
other  parts  of  the  animal,  would  not  see  them. 

But  he  can  see  right  through  everything  he  has 
made.  He  was  glad  to  see  the  Puck-wud-jinnies 
so  lively,  and  he  bethought  him  of  many  new  crea 
tions  while  he  watched  their  motions. 

When  the  Master  of  Life  had  completed  this  large 
animal,  he  was  fearful  to  give  it  life,  and  so  it  was 
left  upon  the  island,  or  work-table  of  Chemanitou, 


MACHINITOU,  THE  EVIL  SPIRIT.  137 

till  its  great  weight  caused  it  to  break  through,  and, 
sinking  partly  down,  it  stuck  fast,  the  head  and  tail 
holding  it  in  such  a  manner  as  to  prevent  it  slipping 
further  down. 

Chemanitou  then  lifted  up  a  piece  of  the  back,  and 
found  it  made  a  very  good  cavity,  into  which  the  old 
creations  which  failed  to  please  him  might  be  thrown. 

He  sometimes  amused  himself  by  making  crea 
tures  very  small  and  active,  with  which  he  disported 
awhile,  and  finding  them  of  very  little  use  in  the 
world,  and  not  so  attractive  as  the  little  vanishers, 
he  would  take  out  the  life,  taking  it  to  himself,  and 
then  cast  them  into  the  cave  made  in  the  body  of 
the  unfinished  animal. 

In  this  way  great  quantities  of  very  odd  shapes 
were  heaped  together  in  this  Roncomcomon,  or  Place 
of  Fragments. 

He  was  always  careful  before  casting  a  thing  he 
had  created  aside  to  take  out  the  life. 

One  day  the  Master  of  Life  took  two  pieces  of  clay 
and  moulded  them  into  two  large  feet,  like  those  of 
a  panther.  He  did  not  make  four — there  were  two 
only. 

He  put  his  own  feet  into  them,  and  found  the 
tread  very  light  and  springy,  so  that  he  might  go 
with  great  speed  and  yet  make  no  noise. 

Next  he  built  up  a  pair  of  very  tall  legs,  in  the 
shape  of  his  own,  and  made  them  walk  about  a  while. 
He  was  pleased  with  the  motion.  Then  followed  a 
round  body  covered  with  large  scales,  like  those  of 
the  alligator. 


138  INDIAN  FOLKLORE. 

He  now  found  the  figure  doubling  forward,  and 
lie  fastened  a  long  black  snake,  that  was  gliding  by, 
to  the  back  part  of  the  body,  and  wound  the  other 
end  round  a  sapling  which  grew  near,  and  this  held 
the  body  upright,  and  made  a  very  good  tail. 

The  shoulders  were  broad  and  strong,  like  those  of 
the  buffalo,  and  covered  with  hair.  The  neck  thick 
and  short,  and  full  at  the  back. 

Thus  far  Chemanitou  had  worked  with  little 
thought,  but  when  he  came  to  the  head  he  thought 
a  long  while. 

He  took  a  round  ball  of  clay  into  his  lap,  and 
worked  it  over  with  great  care.  While  he  thought, 
he  patted  the  ball  of  clay  upon  the  top,  which  made 
it  very  broad  and  low,  for  Chemanitou  was  think 
ing  of  the  panther  feet  and  the  buffalo  neck.  He 
remembered  the  Puck-wud-jinnies  playing  in  the 
eye  sockets  of  the  great  unfinished  animal,  and  he 
bethought  him  to  set  the  eyes  out,  like  those  of 
a  lobster,  so  that  the  animal  might  see  on  every 
side. 

He  made  the  forehead  broad  and  full,  but  low,  for 
here  was  to  be  the  wisdom  of  the  forked  tongue, 
like  that  of  the  serpent,  which  should  be  in  its 
mouth.  It  should  see  all  things  and  know  all 
things.  Here  Chemanitou  stopped,  for  he  saw  that 
he  had  never  thought  of  such  a  creation  before,  one 
with  two  feet — a  creature  that  should  stand  upright, 
and  see  upon  every  side. 

The  jaws  were  very  strong,  with  ivory  teeth  and 
gills  upon  either  side,  which  rose  and  fell  whenever 


MACHINITOU,  THE  EVIL  SPIRIT.  139 

breath  passed  through  them.  The  nose  was  like 
the  beak  of  the  vulture.  A  tuft  of  porcupine-quills 
made  the  scalp- lock. 

Chemanitou  held  the  head  out  the  length  of  his 
arm,  and  turned  it  first  upon  on6  side  and  then  upon 
the  other.  He  passed  it  rapidly  through  the  air,  and 
saw  the  gills  rise  and  fall,  the  lobster  eyes  whirl 
round,  and  the  vulture  nose  look  keen. 

Chemanitou  became  very  sad,  yet  he  put  the  head 
upon  the  shoulders.  It  was  the  first  time  he  had 
made  an  upright  figure.  It  seemed  to  be  the  first 
idea  of  a  man. 

It  was  now  nearly  right.  The  bats  were  flying 
through  the  air,  and  the  roar  of  wild  beasts  began 
to  be  heard.  A  gusty  wind  swept  in  from  the  ocean 
and  passed  over  the  island  of  Metowac,  casting  the 
light  sand  to  and  fro.  A  wavy  scud  was  skimming 
along  the  horizon,  while  higher  up  in  the  sky  was  a 
dark  thick  cloud,  upon  the  verge  of  which  the  moon 
hung  for  a  moment  and  was  then  shut  in. 

A  panther  came  by  and  stayed  a  moment,  with 
one  foot  raised  and  bent  inward,  while  it  looked 
up  at  the  image  and  smelt  the  feet  that  were  like 
its  own. 

A  vulture  swooped  down  with  a  great  noise  of 
its  wings,  and  made  a  dash  at  the  beak,  but  Che 
manitou  held  it  back. 

Then  came  the  porcupine,  the  lizard,  and  the 
snake,  each  drawn  by  its  kind  in  the  image. 

Chemauitou  veiled  his  face  for  many  hours,  and 
the  gusty  wind  swept  by,  but  he  did  not  stir. 


140  INDIAN    FOLKLORE. 

He  saw  that  every  beast  of  the  earth  seeks  its 
kind,  and  that  which  is  like  draws  its  likeness  to 
itself. 

The  Master  of  Life  thought  and  thought.  The 
idea  grew  into  his  mind  that  at  some  time  he  would 
create  a  creature  who  should  be  made,  not  after  the 
things  of  the  earth,  but  after  himself. 

The  being  should  link  this  world  to  the  spirit 
world,  being  made  in  the  likeness  of  the  Great 
Spirit,  he  should  be  drawn  unto  his  likeness. 

Many  days  and  nights — whole  seasons — passed 
while  Chemanitou  thought  upon  these  things.  He 
saw  all  things. 

Then  the  Master  of  Life  lifted  up  his  head.  The 
stars  were  looking  down  upon  the  image,  and  a  bat 
had  alighted  upon  the  forehead,  spreading  its  great 
wings  upon  each  side.  Chemanitou  took  the  bat 
and  held  out  its  whole  leathery  wings  (and  ever 
since  the  bat,  when  he  rests,  lets  his  body  hang 
down),  so  that  he  could  try  them  over  the  head  of 
the  image.  He  then  took  the  life  of  the  bat  away, 
and  twisted  off  the  body,  by  which  means  the  whole 
thin  part  fell  down  over  the  head  of  the  image  and 
upon  each  side,  making  the  ears,  and  a  covering  for 
the  forehead  like  that  of  the  hooded  serpent. 

Chemanitou  did  not  cut  off  the  face  of  the  image 
below,  but  went  on  and  made  a  chin  and  lips  that 
were  firm  and  round,  that  they  might  shut  in  the 
forked  tongue  and  ivory  teeth,  and  he  knew  that 
with  the  lips  the  image  would  smile  when  life  should 
be  given  to  it. 


MACHINITOU,    THE   EVIL   SPIRIT.  141 

The  image  was  now  complete  save  for  the  arms, 
and  Chemanitou  saw  that  it  was  necessary  it  should 
have  hands.  He  grew  more  grave. 

He  had  never  given  hands  to  any  creature.  He 
made  the  arms  and  the  hands  very  beautiful,  after 
the  manner  of  his  own. 

Chemanitou  now  took  no  pleasure  in  the  work  he 
had  done.  It  was  not  good  in  his  sight. 

He  wished  he  had  not  given  it  hands.  Might  it 
not,  when  trusted  with  life,  create  1  Might  it  not 
thwart  the  plans  of  the  Master  of  Life  himself  1 

He  looked  long  at  the  image.  He  saw  what  it 
would  do  when  life  should  be  given  it.  He  knew  all 
things. 

He  now  put  fire  in  the  image,  but  fire  is  not 
life. 

He  put  fire  within  and  a  red  glow  passed  through 
and  through  it.  The  fire  dried  the  clay  of  which  the 
image  was  made,  and  gave  the  image  an  exceedingly 
fierce  aspect.  It  shone  through  the  scales  upon 
the  breast,  through  the  gills,  and  the  bat-winged 
ears.  The  lobster  eyes  were  like  a  living  coal. 

Chemanitou  opened  the  side  of  the  image,  but  he 
did  not  enter.  He  had  given  it  hands  and  a  chin. 

It  could  smile  like  the  manitoes  themselves. 

He  made  it  walk  all  about  the  island  of  Metowac, 
that  he  might  see  how  it  would  act.  This  he  did  by 
means  of  his  will. 

He  now  put  a  little  life  into  it,  but  he  did  not 
take  out  the  fire.  Chemanitou  saw  the  aspect  of  the 
creature  would  be  very  terrible,  and  yet  that  it 


142  INDIAN    FOLKLORE. 

could  smile  in  such  a  manner  that  it  ceased  to  be 
ugly.  He  thought  much  upon  these  things.  He 
felt  that  it  would  not  be  best  to  let  such  a  creature 
live — a  creature  made  up  mostly  from  the  beasts  of 
the  field,  but  with  hands  of  power,  a  chin  lifting  the 
head  upward,  and  lips  holding  all  things  within 
themselves. 

While  he  thought  upon  these  things  he  took  the 
image  in  his  hands  and  cast  it  into  the  cave.  But 
Chemanitou  forgot  to  take  out  the  life. 

The  creature  lay  a  long  time  in  the  cave  and  did 
not  stir,  for  its  fall  was  very  great.  It  lay  amongst 
the  old  creations  that  had  been  thrown  in  there 
without  life. 

Now  when  a  long  time  had  passed  Chemanitou 
heard  a  great  noise  in  the  cave.  He  looked  in  and 
saw  the  image  sitting  there,  and  it  was  trying  to 
put  together  the  old  broken  things  that  had  been 
cast  in  as  of  no  value. 

Chemanitou  gathered  together  a  vast  heap  of 
stones  and  sand,  for  large  rocks  are  not  to  be  had 
upon  the  island,  and  stopped  the  mouth  of  the  cave. 
Many  days  passed  and  the  noise  within  the  cave 
grew  louder.  The  earth  shook,  and  hot  smoke  came 
from  the  ground.  The  manitoes  crowded  to  Metowac 
to  see  what  was  the  matter. 

Chemanitou  came  also,  for  he  remembered  the 
image  he  had  cast  in  there  of  which  he  had  forgotten 
to  take  away  the  life. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  great  rising  of  the  stones 
and  sand,  the  sky  grew  black  with  wind  and  dust. 


MACHINITOU,    THE   EVIL   SPIRIT.  143 

Fire  played  about  on  the  ground,  and  water  gushed 

high  into  the  air. 

All  the  manitoes  fled  with  fear,  and  the  image 

came  forth  with  a  great  noise  and  most  terrible  to 

behold.     Its  life  had  grown   strong  within   it,  for 

the  fire  had  made  it  very  fierce. 

Everything  fled  before  it  and  cried — 

"  Machinitou  !   machinitou,"  which  means  a  god, 

but  an  evil  god. 


THE  WOMAN  OF  STONE. 

IN  one  of  the  niches  or  recesses  formed  by  a  preci 
pice  in  the  cavern  of  Kickapoo  Creek,  which  is  a 
tributary  of  the  Wisconsin,  there  is  a  gigantic  mass 
of  stone  presenting  the  appearance  of  a  human  figure. 
It  is  so  sheltered  by  the  overhanging  rocks  and  by 
the  sides  of  the  recess  in  which  it  stands  as  to 
assume  a  dark  and  gloomy  character.  Of  the  figure 
the  following  legend  is  related  : — 

Once  upon  a  time  there  lived  a  woman  who  was 
called  Shenanska,  or  the  White  Buffalo  Robe.  She 
was  an  inhabitant  of  the  prairie,  a  dweller  in  the 
cabins  which  stand  upon  the  verge  of  the  hills.  She 
was  the  pride  of  her  people,  not  only  for  her  beauty, 
which  was  very  great,  but  for  her  goodness.  The 
breath  of  the  summer  wind  was  not  milder  than  the 
temper  of  Shenanska,  the  face  of  the  sun  was  not 
fairer  than  her  countenance. 

At  length  the  tribe  was  surprised  in  its  encamp 
ment  on  the  banks  of  the  Kickapoo  by  a  numerous 
band  of  the  fierce  Mengwe.  Many  of  them  fell 
fighting  bravely,  the  greater  part  of  the  women  and 
children  were  made  prisoners,  and  the  others  fled  to 

144 


THE  WOMAN   OF  STONE.  145 

the  wilds  for  safety.  It  was  the  fortune  of  Shenanska 
to  escape  from  death  or  captivity.  When  the  alarm 
of  the  war-whoop  reached  her  ear  as  she  was  sleeping 
in  her  lodge  with  her  husband,  she  had  rushed  forth 
with  him  and  gone  with  the  braves  to  meet  their 
assailants.  When  she  saw  half  of  the  men  of  her 
nation  lying  dead  around,  then  she  fled.  She  had 
been  wounded  in  the  battle,  but  she  still  succeeded 
in  effecting  her  escape  to  the  hills.  Weakened  by 
loss  of  blood,  she  had  not  strength  enough  left  to 
hunt  for  a  supply  of  food,  and  she  was  near  perishing 
with  hunger. 

While  she  lay  beneath  the  shade  of  a  tree  there 
came  to  her  a  being  not  of  this  world. 

"Shenanska,"  said  he,  in  a  gentle  voice,  "thou  art 
wounded  and  hungry,  shall  I  heal  thee  and  feed  thee  1 
Wilt  thou  return  to  the  lands  of  thy  tribe  and  live 
to  be  old,  a  widow  and  alone,  or  go  now  to  the  land 
of  departed  spirits  and  join  the  shade  of  thy  hus 
band  1  The  choice  is  thine.  If  thou  wilt  live, 
crippled,  and  bowed  down  by  wounds  and  disease, 
thou  mayest.  If  it  would  please  thee  better  to  rejoin 
thy  friends  in  the  country  beyond  the  Great  Eiver, 
say  so." 

Shenanska  replied  that  she  wished  to  die.  The 
spirit  took  her,  and  placed  her  in  one  of  the  recesses 
of  the  cavern,  overshadowed  by  hanging  rocks.  He 
then  spoke  some  words  in  a  low  voice,  and,  breathing 
on  her,  she  became  stone.  Determined  that  a  woman 
so  good  and  beautiful  should  not  be  forgotten  by 
the  world,  he  made  her  into  a  statue,  to  which  he 

K 


146  INDIAN   FOLKLORE. 

gave  the  power  of  killing  suddenly  any  one  who  irre 
verently  approached  it.  For  a  long  time  the  statue 
relentlessly  exercised  this  power.  Many  an  uncon 
scious  Indian,  venturing  too  near  to  it,  fell  dead 
without  any  perceptible  wound.  At  length,  tired  of 
the  havoc  the  statue  made,  the  guardian  spirit  took 
away  the  power  he  had  given  to  it.  At  this  day 
the  statue  may  be  approached  with  safety,  but  the 
Indians  hold  it  in  fear,  not  intruding  rashly  upon  it, 
and  when  in  its  presence  treating  it  with  great 
respect. 


THE  MAIDEN  WHO  LOVED  A  FISH. 

THERE  was  once  among  the  Marshpees,  a  small 
tribe  who  have  their  hunting-grounds  on  the  shores 
of  the  Great  Lake,  near  the  Cape  of  Storms,  a 
woman  whose  name  was  Awashanks.  She  was 
rather  silly,  and  very  idle.  For  days  together  she 
would  sit  doing  nothing.  Then  she  was  so  ugly  and 
ill-shaped  that  not  one  of  the  youths  of  the  village 
would  have  aught  to  say  to  her  by  way  of  courtship 
or  marriage.  She  squinted  very  much ;  her  face  was 
long  and  thin,  her  nose  excessively  large  and  humped, 
her  teeth  crooked  and  projecting,  her  chin  almost  as 
sharp  as  the  bill  of  a  loon,  and  her  ears  as  large  as 
those  of  a  deer.  Altogether  she  was  a  very  odd  and 
strangely  formed  woman,  and  wherever  she  went 
she  never  failed  to  excite  much  laughter  and  derision 
among  those  who  thought  that  ugliness  and  defor 
mity  were  fit  subjects  for  ridicule. 

Though  so  very  ugly,  there  was  one  faculty  she 
possessed  in  a  more  remarkable  degree  than  any 
woman  of  the  tribe.  It  was  that  of  singing.  No 
thing,  unless  such  could  be  found  in  the  land  of 
spirits,  could  equal  the  sweetness  of  her  voice  or  the 
beauty  of  her. songs.  Her  favourite  place  of  resort 

147 


148  INDIAN    FOLKLORE. 

was  a  small  hill,  a  little  removed  from  the  river  of 
her  people,  and  there,  seated  beneath  the  shady  trees, 
she  would  while  away  the  hours  of  summer  with  her 
charming  songs.  So  beautiful  and  melodious  were 
the  things  she  uttered,  that,  by  the  time  she  had  sung 
a  single  sentence,  the  branches  above  her  head  would 
be  filled  with  the  birds  that  came  thither  to  listen, 
the  thickets  around  her  would  be  crowded  with 
beasts,  and  the  waters  rolling  beside  her  would  be 
alive  with  fishes,  all  attracted  by  the  sweet  sounds. 
From  the  minnow  to  the  porpoise,  from  the  wren  to 
the  eagle,  from  the  snail  to  the  lobster,  from  the 
mouse  to  the  mole, — all  hastened  to  the  spot  to  listen 
to  the  charming  songs  of  the  hideous  Marshpee 
maiden. 

Among  the  fishes  which  repaired  every  night  to  the 
vicinity  of  the  Little  Hillock,  which  was  the  chosen 
resting-place  of  the  ugly  songstress,  was  the  great 
chief  of  the  trouts,  a  tribe  of  fish  inhabiting  the  river 
near  by.  The  chief  was  of  a  far  greater  size  than  the 
people  of  his  nation  usually  are,  being  as  long  as  a 
man,  and  quite  as  thick. 

Of  all  the  creatures  which  came  to  listen  to  the 
singing  of  Awashanks  none  appeared  to  enjoy  it  so 
highly  as  the  chief  of  the  trouts.  As  his  bulk  pre 
vented  him  from  approaching  so  near  as  he  wished, 
he,  from  time  to  time,  in  his  eagerness  to  enjoy  the 
music  to  the  best  advantage,  ran  his  nose  into  the 
ground,  and  thus  worked  his  way  a  considerable  dis 
tance  into  the  land.  Nightly  he  continued  his  exer 
tions  to  approach  the  source  of  the  delightful  sounds 


THE   MAIDEN    WHO   LOVED   A   FISH.  149 

he  heard,  till  at  length  he  had  ploughed  out  a  wide 
and  handsome  channel,  and  so  effected  his  passage 
from  the  river  to  the  hill,  a  distance  extending  an 
arrow's-flight.  Thither  he  repaired  every  night  at 
the  commencement  of  darkness,  sure  to  meet  the 
maiden  who  had  become  so  necessary  to  his  happi 
ness.  Soon  he  began  to  speak  of  the  pleasure  he 
enjoyed,  and  to  fill  the  ears  of  Awashanks  with  fond 
protestations  of  his  love  and  affection.  Instead  of 
singing  to  him,  she  soon  began  to  listen  to  his  voice. 
It  was  something  so  new  and  strange  to  her  to  hear 
the  tones  of  love  and  courtship,  a  thing  so  unusual 
to  be  told  she  was  beautiful,  that  it  is  not  wonderful 
her  head  was  turned  by  the  new  incident,  and  that 
she  began  to  think  the  voice  of  her  lover  the 
sweetest  she  had  ever  heard.  One  thing  marred 
their  happiness.  This  was  that  the  trout  could  not 
live  upon  land,  nor  the  maiden  in  the  water.  This 
state  of  things  gave  them  much  sorrow. 

They  had  met  one  evening  at  the  usual  place,  and 
were  discoursing  together,  lamenting  that  two  who 
loved  one  another  so  should  be  doomed  to  always 
live  apart,  when  a  man  appeared  close  to  Awashanks. 
He  asked  the  lovers  why  they  seemed  to  be  so 
sad. 

The  chief  of  the  trouts  told  the  stranger  the  cause 
of  their  sorrow. 

"  Be  not  grieved  nor  hopeless,"  said  the  stranger, 
when  the  chief  had  finished.  "The  impediments 
can  be  removed.  I  am  the  spirit  who  presides  over 
fishes,  and  though  I  cannot  make  a  man  or  woman 


150  INDIAN   FOLKLORE. 

of  a  fish,  I  can  make  them  into  fish.     Under  my 
power  Awashanks  shall  become  a  beautiful  trout." 

With  that  he  bade  the  girl  follow  him  into  the 
river.  When  they  had  waded  in  some  little  depth 
he  took  up  some  water  in  his  hand  and  poured  it  on 
her  head,  muttering  some  words,  of  which  none  but 
himself  knew  the  meaning.  Immediately  a  change 
took  place  in  her.  Her  body  took  the  form  of  a 
fish,  and  in  a  few  moments  she  was  a  complete 
trout.  Having  accomplished  this  transformation  the 
spirit  gave  her  to  the  chief  of  the  trouts,  and  the 
pair  glided  off  into  the  deep  and  quiet  waters.  She 
did  not,  however,  forget  the  land  of  her  birth.  Every 
season,  on  the  same  night  as  that  upon  which  her 
disappearance  from  her  tribe  had  been  wrought, 
there  were  to  be  seen  two  trouts  of  enormous  size 
playing  in  the  water  off  the  shore.  They  continued 
these  visits  till  the  pale-faces  came  to  the  country, 
when,  deeming  themselves  to  be  in  danger  from  a 
people  who  paid  no  reverence  to  the  spirits  of  the 
land,  they  bade  it  adieu  for  ever. 


THE  LONE  LIGHTNING. 

A  LITTLE  orphan  boy,  who  had  no  one  to  care  for 
him,  once  lived  with  his  uncle,  who  treated  him  very 
badly,  making  him  do  hard  work,  and  giving  him 
very  little  to  eat,  so  that  the  boy  pined  away  and 
never  grew  much,  but  became,  through  hard  usage, 
very  thin  and  light.  At  last  the  uncle  pretended  to 
be  ashamed  of  this  treatment,  and  determined  to 
make  amends  for  it  by  fattening  the  boy  up.  He 
really  wished,  however,  to  kill  him  by  overfeeding 
him.  He  told  his  wife  to  give  the  boy  plenty  of 
bear's  meat,  and  let  him  have  the  fat,  which  is 
thought  to  be  the  best  part.  They  were  both  very 
assiduous  in  cramming  him,  and  one  day  nearly 
choked  him  to  death  by  forcing  the  fat  down  his 
throat.  The  boy  escaped,  and  fled  from  the  lodge. 
He  knew  not  where  to  go,  and  wandered  about. 
When  night  came  on  he  was  afraid  the  wild  beasts 
would  eat  him,  so  he  climbed  up  into  the  forks  of 
a  high  pine-tree,  and  there  he  fell  asleep  in  the 
branches. 

As  he  was  asleep  a  person  appeared  to  him  from 
the  high  sky,  and  said — 

151 


152  INDIAN  FOLKLORE. 

"My  poor  lad,  I  pity  you,  and  the  bad  usage  you 
have  received  from  your  uncle  has  led  me  to  visit 
you.  Follow  me,  and  step  in  my  tracks." 

Immediately  his  sleep  left  him,  and  he  rose  up  and 
followed  his  guide,  mounting  up  higher  and  higher  in 
the  air  until  he  reached  the  lofty  sky.  Here  twelve 
arrows  were  put  into  his  hands,  and  he  was  told 
that  there  were  a  great  many  manitoes  in  the  northern 
sky,  against  whom  he  must  go  to  war  and  try  to 
waylay  and  shoot  them.  Accordingly  he  went  to 
that  part  of  the  sky,  and,  at  long  intervals,  shot 
arrow  after  arrow  until  he  had  expended  eleven  in  a 
vain  attempt  to  kill  the  manitoes.  At  the  flight  of 
each  arrow  there  was  a  long  and  solitary  streak  of 
lightning  in  the  sky — then  all  was  clear  again,  and 
not  a  cloud  or  spot  could  be  seen.  The  twelfth 
arrow  he  held  a  long  time  in  his  hands,  and  looked 
around  keenly  on  every  side  to  spy  the  manitoes  he 
was  after,  but  these  manitoes  were  very  cunning,  and 
could  change  their  form  in  a  moment.  All  they 
feared  was  the  boy's  arrows,  for  these  were  magic 
weapons,  which  had  been  given  to  him  by  a  good 
spirit,  and  had  power  to  kill  if  aimed  aright.  At 
length  the  boy  drew  up  his  last  arrow,  took  aim, 
and  let  fly,  as  he  thought,  into  the  very  heart 
of  the  chief  of  the  manitoes.  Before  the  arrow 
reached  him,  however,  he  changed  himself  into 
a  rock,  into  which  the  head  of  the  arrow  sank  deep 
and  stuck  fast. 

"Now  your  gifts  are  all  expended,"  cried  the 
enraged  manito,  "  and  I  will  make  an  example  of 


THE  LONE  LIGHTNING.  153 

your  audacity  and  pride  of  heart  for  lifting  your 
bow  against  me." 

So  saying,  he  transformed  the  boy  into  the 
Nazhik-a-wa  wa  sun,  or  Lone  Lightning,  which 
may  be  observed  in  the  northern  sky  to  this 
day. 


AGGO-DAH-GAUDA. 

AGGO-DAH-GAUDA  had  one  leg  hooped  up  to  his  thigh 
so  that  he  was  obliged  to  get  along  by  hopping.  He 
had  a  beautiful  daughter,  and  his  chief  care  was  to 
secure  her  from  being  carried  off  by  the  king  of  tho 
buffaloes.  He  was  peculiar  in  his  habits,  and  lived 
in  a  loghouse,  and  he  advised  his  daughter  to  keep 
indoors,  and  never  go  out  for  fear  she  should  be 
stolen  away. 

One  sunshiny  morning  Aggo-dah-gauda  prepared 
to  go  out  fishing,  but  before  he  left  the  lodge  he 
reminded  his  daughter  of  her  strange  lover. 

"  My  daughter,"  said  he,  "  I  am  going  out  to  fish, 
and  as  the  day  will  be  a  pleasant  one,  you  must 
recollect  that  we  have  an  enemy  near  who  is  con 
stantly  going  about,  and  so  you  must  not  leave  the 
lodge." 

When  he  reached  his  fishing-place,  he  heard  a 
voice  singing — 

"Man  with  the  leg  tied  up, 
Man  with  the  leg  tied  up, 
Broken  hip— hip- 
Hipped. 


AGGO-DAH-GAUDA.  155 

Man  with  the  leg  tied  up, 

Man  with  the  leg  tied  up, 

Broken  leg — leg — 

Legged." 

He  looked  round  but  saw  no  one,  so  he  suspected 
the  words  were  sung  by  his  enemies  the  buffaloes, 
and  hastened  home. 

The  girl's  father  had  not  been  long  absent  from 
the  lodge  when  she  began  to  think  to  herself — 

"It  is  hard  to  be  for  ever  kept  indoors.  The 
spring  is  coming  on,  and  the  days  are  so  sunny  and 
warm,  that  it  would  be  very  pleasant  to  sit  out  of 
doors.  My  father  says  it  is  dangerous.  I  know  what 
I  will  do  :  I  will  get  on  the  top  of  the  house,  and 
there  I  can  comb  and  dress  my  hair." 

She  accordingly  got  up  on  the  roof  of  the  small 
house,  and  busied  herself  in  untying  and  combing 
her  beautiful  hair,  which  was  not  only  fine  and 
shining,  but  so  long  that  it  reached  down  to  the 
ground,  hanging  over  the  eaves  of  the  house  as  she 
combed  it.  She  was  so  intent  upon  this  that  she 
forgot  all  ideas  of  danger.  All  of  a  sudden  the  king 
of  the  buffaloes  came  dashing  by  with  his  herd  of 
followers,  and,  taking  her  between  his  horns,  away 
he  cantered  over  the  plains,  and  then,  plunging  into 
a  river  that  bounded  his  land,  he  carried  her  safely 
to  his  lodge  on  the  other  side.  Here  he  paid  her 
every  attention  in  order  to  gain  her  affections,  but 
all  to  no  purpose,  for  she  sat  pensive  and  disconsolate 
in  the  lodge  among  the  other  females,  and  scarcely 
ever  spoke.  The  buffalo  king  did  all  he  could  to 


156  INDIAN  FOLKLORE. 

please  her,  and  told  the  others  in  the  lodge  to  give 
her  everything  she  wanted,  and  to  study  her  in 
every  way.  They  set  before  her  the  choicest  food, 
and  gave  her  the  seat  of  honour  in  the  lodge.  The 
king  himself  went  out  hunting  to  obtain  the  most 
delicate  bits  of  meat  both  of  animals  and  wild-fowl, 
and,  not  content  with  these  proofs  of  his  love,  he 
fasted  himself  and  would  often  take  his  pib-be- 
gwun  (Indian  flute)  and  sit  near  the  lodge  singing — 

"  My  sweetheart, 
My  sweetheart, 

Ah  me! 

When  I  think  of  you, 
When  I  think  of  you, 
Ah  me  ! 

How  I  love  you, 
How  I  love  you, 

Ah  me  ! 

Do  not  hate  me, 
Do  not  hate  me, 

Ah  me  ! " 

In  the  meantime  Aggo-dah-gauda  came  home,  and 
finding  his  daughter  had  been  stolen  he  determined 
to  get  her  back.  For  this  purpose  he  immediately 
set  out.  He  could  easily  trace  the  king  till  he  came 
to  the  banks  of  the  river,  and  then  he  saw  he  had 
plunged  in  and  swum  over.  When  Aggo-dah-gauda 
came  to  the  river,  however,  he  found  it  covered  with 
a  thin  coating  of  ice,  so  that  he  could  not  swim 
across  nor  walk  over.  He  therefore  determined  to 
wait  on  the  bank  a  day  or  two  till  the  ice  might 


AGGO-DAH-GAUDA.  157 

melt  or  become  strong  enough  to  bear  him.  Very 
soon  the  ice  was  strong  enough,  and  Aggo-dah-gauda 
crossed  over.  On  the  other  side,  as  he  went  along, 
he  found  branches  torn  off  and  cast  down,  and  these 
had  been  strewn  thus  by  his  daughter  to  aid  him  in 
following  her.  The  way  in  which  she  managed  it 
was  this.  Her  hair  was  all  untied  when  she  was 
captured,  and  as  she  was  carried  along  it  caught  in 
the  branches  as  she  passed,  so  she  took  the  pieces 
out  of  her  hair  and  threw  them  down  on  the  path. 

When  Aggo-dah-gauda  came  to  the  king's  lodge 
it  was  evening.  Carefully  approaching  it,  he  peeped 
through  the  sides  and  saw  his  daughter  sitting  there 
disconsolately.  She  saw  him,  and  knowing  that  it 
was  her  father  come  for  her,  she  said  to  the  king, 
giving  him  a  tender  glance — 

"  I  will  go  and  get  you  a  drink  of  water." 
The  king  was  delighted  at  what  he  thought  was  a 
mark  of  her  affection,  and  the  girl  left  the  lodge 
with  a  dipper  in  her  hand.  The  king  waited  a  long 
time  for  her,  and  as  she  did  not  return  he  went  out 
with  his  followers,  but  nothing  could  be  seen  or 
heard  of  the  girl.  The  buffaloes  sallied  out  into  the 
plains,  and  had  not  gone  far  by  the  light  of  the 
moon,  when  they  were  attacked  by  a  party  of 
hunters.  Many  of  them  fell,  but  the  buffalo-king, 
being  stronger  and  swifter  than  the  others,  escaped, 
and,  flying  to  the  west,  was  never  seen  more. 


P  I  Q  U  A. 

A  GREAT  while  ago  the  Shawanos  nation  took  up 
the  war-talk  against  the  Walkullas,  who  lived  on 
their  own  lands  on  the  borders  of  the  Great  Salt 
Lake,  and  near  the  Burning  Water.  Part  of  the 
nation  were  not  well  pleased  with  the  war.  The 
head  chief  and  the  counsellors  said  the  Walkullas 
were  very  brave  and  cunning,  and  the  priests  said 
their  god  was  mightier  than  ours.  The  old  and 
experienced  warriors  said  the  counsellors  were  wise, 
and  had  spoken  well ;  but  the  Head  Buffalo,  the  young 
warriors,  and  all  who  wished  for  war,  would  not 
listen  to  their  words.  They  said  that  our  fathers 
had  beaten  their  fathers  in  many  battles,  that  the 
Shawanos  were  as  brave  and  strong  as  they  ever 
were,  and  the  Walkullas  much  weaker  and  more 
cowardly.  They  said  the  old  and  timid,  the  faint 
heart  and  the  failing  knee,  might  stay  at  home  to 
take  care  of  the  women  and  children,  and  sleep  and 
dream  of  those  who  had  never  dared  bend  a  bow  or 
look  upon  a  painted  cheek  or  listen  to  a  war-whoop, 
while  the  young  warriors  went  to  war  and  drank 

168 


PIQUA.  159 

much  blood.  When  two  moons  were  gone  they  said 
they  would  come  back  with  many  prisoners  and  scalps, 
and  have  a  great  feast.  The  arguments  of  the  fiery 
young  men  prevailed  with  all  the  youthful  warriors, 
but  the  elder  and  wiser  listened  to  the  priests  and 
counsellors,  and  remained  in  their  villages  to  see 
the  leaf  fall  and  the  grass  grow,  and  to  gather  in 
the  nut  and  follow  the  trail  of  the  deer. 

Two  moons  passed,  then  a  third,  then  came  the 
night  enlivened  by  many  stars,  but  the  warriors 
returned  not.  As  the  land  of  the  Walkullas  lay  but 
a  woman's  journey  of  six  suns  from  the  villages  of 
our  nation,  our  people  began  to  fear  that  our  young 
men  had  been  overcome  in  battle  and  were  all  slain. 
The  head  chief,  the  counsellors,  and  all  the  warriors 
who  had  remained  behind,  came  together  in  the 
great  wigwam,  and  called  the  priests  to  tell  them 
where  their  sons  were.  Chenos,  who  was  the  wisest 
of  them  all  (as  well  he  might  be,  for  he  was  older 
than  the  oak-tree  whose  top  dies  by  the  hand  of 
Time),  answered  that  they  were  killed  by  their 
enemies,  the  Walkullas,  assisted  by  men  of  a 
strange  speech  and  colour,  who  lived  beyond  the 
Great  Salt  Lake,  fought  with  thunder  and  lightning, 
and  came  to  our  enemies  on  the  back  of  a  great  bird 
with  many  white  wings.  When  he  had  thus  made 
known  to  our  people  the  fate  of  the  warriors  there  was 
a  dreadful  shout  of  horror  throughout  the  village. 
The  women  wept  aloud,  and  the  men  sprang  up  and 
seized  their  bows  and  arrows  to  go  to  war  with  the 
Walkullas  and  the  strange  warriors  who  had  helped 


160  INDIAN  FOLKLORE. 

to  slay  their  sons,  but  Chenos  bade  them  sit  down 
again. 

"There  is  one  yet  living,"  said  he.  "He  will 
soon  be  here.  The  sound  of  his  footsteps  is  in  my 
ear  as  he  crosses  the  hollow  hills.  He  has  killed 
many  of  his  enemies  ;  he  has  glutted  his  vengeance 
fully ;  he  has  drunk  blood  in  plenteous  draughts. 
Long  he  fought  with  the  men  of  his  own  race,  and 
many  fell  before  him,  but  he  fled  from  the  men  who 
came  to  the  battle  armed  with  the  real  lightning,  and 
hurling  unseen  death.  Even  now  I  see  him  coming  ; 
the  shallow  streams  he  has  forded  ;  the  deep  rivers 
he  has  swum.  He  is  tired  and  hungry,  and  his 
quiver  has  no  arrows,  but  he  brings  a  prisoner  in 
his  arms.  Lay  the  deer's  flesh  on  the  fire,  and  bring 
hither  the  pounded  corn.  Taunt  him  not,  for  he  is 
valiant,  and  has  fought  like  a  hungry  bear." 

As  the  wise  Chenos  spoke  these  words  to  the 
grey-bearded  counsellors  and  warriors  the  Head 
Buffalo  walked  calm  and  cool  into  the  midst  of 
them.  There  he  stood,  tall  and  straight  as  a  young 
pine,  but  he  spoke  no  word,  looking  on  the  head 
chief  and  the  counsellors.  There  was  blood  upon 
his  body,  dried  on  by  the  sun,  and  the  arm  next  his 
heart  was  bound  up  with  the  skin  of  the  deer.  His 
eye  was  hollow  and  his  body  gaunt,  as  though  he 
had  fasted  long.  His  quiver  held  no  arrows. 

"  Where  are  our  sons  1 "  inquired  the  head  chief 
of  the  warrior. 

"  Ask  the  wolf  and  the  panther,"  he  answered. 

"  Brother !    tell   us   where   are   our   sons  ! "    ex- 


PIQUA.  161 

claimed  the  chief.     "  Our  women  ask  us  for  their 
sons.     They  want  them.     Where  are  they  ?  " 

"  Where  are  the  snows  of  last  year  1  "  replied  the 
warrior.  "  Have  they  not  gone  down  the  swelling 
river  into  the  Great  Lake "?  They  have,  and  even  so 
have  your  sons  descended  the  stream  of  Time  into 
the  great  Lake  of  Death.  The  great  star  sees  them 
as  they  lie  by  the  water  of  the  Walkulla,  but  they 
see  him  not.  The  panther  and  the  wolf  howl  un 
heeded  at  their  feet,  and  the  eagle  screams,  but  they 
hear  them  not.  The  vulture  whets  his  beak  on 
their  bones,  the  wild-cat  rends  their  flesh,  both  are 
unfelt,  for  your  sons  are  dead." 

When  the  warrior  told  these  things  to  our  people, 
they  set  up  their  loud  death-howl.  The  women 
wept;  but  the  men  sprang  up  and  seized  their 
weapons,  to  go  to  meet  the  Walkullas,  the  slayers 
of  their  sons.  The  chief  warrior  rose  again — 

"Fathers  and  warriors,"  said  he,  "hear  me  and 
believe  my  words,  for  I  will  tell  you  the  truth. 
Who  ever  heard  the  Head  Buffalo  lie,  and  who  ever 
saw  him  afraid  of  his  enemies  1  Never,  since  the 
time  that  he  chewed  the  bitter  root  and  put  on  the 
new  moccasins,  has  he  lied  or  fled  from  his  foes. 
He  has  neither  a  forked  tongue  nor  a  faint  heart. 
Fathers,  the  Walkullas  are  weaker  than  us.  Their 
arms  are  not  so  strong,  their  hearts  are  not  so  big, 
as  ours.  As  well  might  the  timid  deer  make  war 
upon  the  hungry  wolf,  as  the  Walkullas  upon  the 
Shawanos.  We  could  slay  them  as  easily  as  a  hawk 
pounces  into  a  dove's  nest  and  steals  away  her  un- 


162  INDIAN  FOLKLORE. 

feathered  little  ones.  The  Head  Buffalo  alone  could 
have  taken  the  scalps  of  half  the  nation.  But  a 
strange  tribe  has  come  among  them — men  whose 
skin  is  white  as  the  folds  of  the  cloud,  and  whose 
hair  shines  like  the  great  star  of  day.  They  do  not 
fight  as  we  fight,  with  bows  and  arrows  and  with  war- 
axes,  but  with  spears  which  thunder  and  lighten,  and 
send  unseen  death.  The  Shawanos  fall  before  it  as 
the  berries  and  acorns  fall  when  the  forest  is  shaken 
by  the  wind  in  the  beaver-moon.  Look  at  the  arm 
nearest  my  heart.  It  was  stricken  by  a  bolt  from 
the  strangers'  thunder ;  but  he  fell  by  the  hands  of 
the  Head  Buffalo,  who  fears  nothing  but  shame,  and 
his  scalp  lies  at  the  feet  of  the  head  chief. 

"  Fathers,  this  was  our  battle.  We  came  upon  the 
Walkullas,  I  and  my  brothers,  when  they  were  unpre 
pared.  They  were  just  going  to  hold  the  dance  of  the 
green  corn.  The  whole  nation  had  come  to  the  dance; 
there  were  none  left  behind  save  the  sick  and  the 
very  old.  None  were  painted ;  they  were  all  for  peace, 
and  were  as  women.  We  crept  close  to  them,  and 
hid  in  the  thick  bushes  which  grew  upon  the  edge 
of  their  camp,  for  the  Shawanos  are  the  cunning 
adder  and  not  the  foolish  rattlesnake.  We  saw 
them  preparing  to  offer  a  sacrifice  to  the  Great 
Spirit.  We  saw  them  clean  the  deer,  and  hang  his 
head,  horns,  and  entrails  upon  the  great  white  pole 
with  a  forked  top,  which  stood  over  the  roof  of  the 
council  wigwam.  They  did  not  know  that  the 
Master  of  Life  had  sent  the  Shawanos  to  mix  blood 
with  the  sacrifices.  We  saw  them  take  the  new  corn 


PIQUA.  163 

and  rub  it  upon  their  hands,  breasts,  and  faces. 
Then  the  head  chief,  having  first  thanked  the 
Master  of  Life  for  his  goodness  to  the  Walkullas, 
got  up  and  gave  his  brethren  a  talk.  He  told  them 
that  the  Great  Spirit  loved  them,  and  had  made 
them  victorious  over  all  their  enemies ;  that  he  had 
sent  a  great  many  fat  bears,  deer,  and  moose  to 
their  hunting-ground,  and  had  given  them  fish, 
whose  heads  were  very  small  and  bodies  very  big ; 
that  he  had  made  their  corn  grow  tall  and  sweet, 
and  had  ordered  his  suns  to  ripen  it  in  the  begin 
ning  of  the  harvest  moon,  that  they  might  make  a 
great  feast  for  the  strangers  who  had  come  from  a 
far  country  on  the  wings  of  a  great  bird  to  warm 
themselves  at  the  Walkullas'  fire.  He  told  them 
they  must  love  the  Great  Spirit,  take  care  of  the 
old  men,  tell  no  lies,  and  never  break  the  faith  of 
the  pipe  of  peace ;  that  they  must  not  harm  the 
strangers,  for  they  were  their  brothers,  but  must 
live  in  peace  with  them,  and  give  them  lands  and 
wives  from  among  their  women.  If  they  did  these 
things  the  Great  Spirit,  he  said,  would  make  their 
corn  grow  taller  than  ever,  and  direct  them  to 
hunting-grounds  where  the  moose  should  be  as 
thick  as  the  stars. 

"  Fathers  and  warriors,  we  heard  these  words ; 
but  we  knew  not  what  to  do.  We  feared  not  the 
Walkullas ;  the  God  of  War,  we  saw,  had  given  them 
into  our  hands.  But  who  were  the  strange  tribe  1 
Were  they  armed  as  we  were,  and  was  their  Great 
Medicine  (Great  Spirit)  like  ours  ?  Warriors,  you 


164  INDIAN   FOLKLORE. 

all  knew  the  Young  Eagle,  the  son  of  the  Old  Eagle, 
who  is  here  with  us ;  but  his  wings  are  feeble,  he 
flies  no  more  to  the  field  of  blood.  The  Young 
Eagle  feared  nothing  but  shame,  and  he  said — 

"  *  I  see  many  men  sit  round  a  fire,  I  will  go  and 
see  who  they  are  ! ' 

"  He  went.  The  Old  Eagle  looks  at  me  as  if  he 
would  say,  '  Why  went  not  the  chief  warrior  him 
self  1 '  I  will  tell  you.  The  Head  Buffalo  is  a  head 
taller  than  the  tallest  man  of  his  tribe.  Can  the 
moose  crawl  into  the  fox's  hole  1  can  the  swan  hide 
himself  under  a  little  leaf  1  The  Young  Eagle 
was  little,  save  in  his  soul.  He  was  not  full-grown, 
save  in  his  heart.  He  could  go  and  not  be  seen  or 
heard.  He  was  the  cunning  black-snake  which 
creeps  silently  in  the  grass,  and  none  thinks  him 
near  till  he  strikes. 

"He  came  back  and  told  us  there  were  many 
strange  men  a  little  way  before  us  whose  faces  were 
white,  and  who  wore  no  skins,  whose  cabins  were 
white  as  the  snow  upon  the  Backbone  of  the  Great 
Spirit  (the  Alleghany  Mountains),  flat  at  the  top, 
and  moving  with  the  wind  like  the  reeds  on  the 
bank  of  a  river ;  that  they  did  not  talk  like  the 
Walkullas,  but  spoke  a  strange  tongue,  the  like  of 
which  he  had  never  heard  before.  Many  of  our 
warriors  would  have  turned  back  to  our  own  lands. 
The  Flying  Squirrel  said  it  was  not  cowardice  to  do 
so;  but  the  Head  Buffalo  never  turns  till  he  has 
tasted  the  blood  of  his  foes.  The  Young  Eagle  said 
he  had  eaten  the  bitter  root  and  put  on  the  new 


PIQUA.  165 

moccasins,  and  had  been  made  a  man,  and  his  father 
and  the  warriors  would  cry  shame  on  him  if  he  took 
no  scalp.  Both  he  and  the  Head  Buffalo  said  they 
would  go  and  attack  the  Walkullas  and  their  friends 
alone.  The  young  warriors  then  said  they  would 
also  go  to  the  battle,  and  with  a  great  heart,  as  their 
fathers  had  done.  Then  the  Shawanos  rushed  upon 
their  foes. 

"The  Walkullas  fell  before  us  like  rain  in  the 
summer  months.  We  were  as  a  fire  among  rushes. 
We  went  upon  them  when  they  were  unprepared, 
when  they  were  as  children ;  and  for  a  while  the 
Great  Spirit  gave  them  into  our  hands.  But  a 
power  rose  up  against  us  that  we  could  not  with 
stand.  The  strange  men  came  upon  us  armed  with 
thunder  and  lightning.  Why  delays  my  tongue  to 
tell  its  story  1  Fathers,  your  sons  have  fallen  like 
the  leaves  of  a  forest-tree  in  a  high  wind,  like  the 
flowers  of  spring  after  a  frost,  like  drops  of  rain  in 
the  sturgeon  moon !  Warriors,  the  sprouts  which 
sprang  up  from  the  withered  oaks  have  perished, 
the  young  braves  of  our  nation  lie  food  for  the 
eagle  and  the  wild- cat  by  the  arm  of  the  Great 
Lake  ! 

"Fathers,  the  bolt  from  the  strangers'  thunder 
entered  my  flesh,  yet  I  did  not  fly.  These  six  scalps 
I  tore  from  the  Walkullas,  but  this  has  yellow  hair. 
Have  I  done  well  ?  " 

The  head  chief  and  the  counsellors  answered  he 
had  done  very  well,  but  Chenos  answered — 

"  No.     You  went  into  the  Walkullas'  camp  when 


166  INDIAN   FOLKLORE. 

the  tribe  were  feasting  to  the  Great  Spirit,  and  you 
disturbed  the  sacrifice,  and  mixed  human  blood  with 
it.  Therefore  has  this  evil  come  upon  us,  for  the 
Great  Spirit  is  very  angry." 

Then  the  head  chief  and  the  counsellors  asked 
Chenos  what  must  be  done  to  appease  the  Master  of 
Breath. 

Chenos  answered — 

"The  Head  Buffalo,  with  the  morning,  will  offer 
to  him  that  which  he  holds  dearest." 

The  Head  Buffalo  looked  upon  the  priests,  and 
said — 

"The  Head  Buffalo  fears  the  Great  Spirit.  He 
will  kill  a  deer,  and,  in  the  morning,  it  shall  be 
burned  to  the  Great  Spirit." 

Chenos  said  to  him — 

"You  have  told  the  council  how  the  battle  was 
fought  and  who  fell;  you  have  shown  the  spent 
quiver  and  the  scalps,  but  you  have  not  spoken  of 
your  prisoner.  The  Great  Spirit  keeps  nothing  hid 
from  his  priests,  of  whom  Chenos  is  one.  He  has 
told  me  you  have  a  prisoner,  one  with  tender  feet 
and  a  trembling  heart." 

"Let  any  one  say  the  Head  Buffalo  ever  lied," 
replied  the  warrior.  "He  never  spoke  but  truth. 
He  has  a  prisoner,  a  woman  taken  from  the  strange 
camp,  a  daughter  of  the  sun,  a  maiden  from  the 
happy  islands  which  no  Shawano  has  ever  seen,  and 
she  shall  live  with  me,  and  become  the  mother  of 
my  children." 

"  Where  is  she  1 "  asked  the  head  chief. 


PIQUA.  167 

"She  sits  on  the  bank  of  the  river  at  the  bend 
where  we  dug  up  the  bones  of  the  great  beast, 
beneath  the  tree  which  the  Master  of  Breath  shivered 
with  his  lightnings.  I  placed  her  there  because  the 
spot  is  sacred,  and  none  dare  disturb  her.  I  will 
go  and  fetch  her  to  the  council  fire,  but  let  no  one 
touch  her  or  show  anger,  for  she  is  fearful  as  a 
young  deer,  and  weeps  like  a  child  for  its  mother." 

Soon  he  returned,  and  brought  with  him  a  woman. 
She  shook  like  a  reed  in  the  winter's  wind,  and 
many  tears  ran  down  her  cheeks.  The  men  sat  as 
though  their  tongues  were  frozen.  Was  she  beauti 
ful  ?  Go  forth  to  the  forest  when  it  is  clothed  with 
the  flowers  of  spring,  look  at  the  tall  maize  when  it 
waves  in  the  wind,  and  ask  if  they  are  beautiful. 
Her  skin  was  white  as  the  snow  which  falls  upon 
the  mountains  beyond  our  lands,  save  upon  her 
cheeks,  where  it  was  red, — not  such  red  as  the  Indian 
paints  when  he  goes  to  war,  but  such  as  the  Master 
of  Life  gives  to  the  flower  which  grows  among  thorns. 
Her  eyes  shone  like  the  star  which  never  moves. 
Her  step  was  like  that  of  the  deer  when  it  is  a  little 
scared. 

The  Head  Buffalo  said  to  the  council — 

"This  is  my  prisoner.  I  fought  hard  for  her. 
Three  warriors,  tall,  strong,  and  painted,  three  pale 
men,  armed  with  red  lightning,  stood  at  her  side. 
Where  are  they  now  1  I  bore  her  away  in  my  arms, 
for  fear  had  overcome  her.  When  night  came  on  I 
wrapped  skins  around  her,  and  laid  her  under  the 
leafy  branches  of  the  tree  to  keep  off  the  cold,  and 


168  INDIAN   FOLKLORE. 

kindled  a  fire,  and  watched  by  her  till  the  sun  rose. 
Who  will  say  she  shall  not  live  with  the  Head 
Buffalo,  and  be  the  mother  of  his  children  1 " 

Then  the  Old  Eagle  got  up,  but  he  could  not 
walk  strong,  for  he  was  the  oldest  warrior  of  his 
tribe,  and  had  seen  the  flowers  bloom  many  times, 
the  infant  trees  of  the  forest  die  of  old  age,  and  the 
friends  of  his  boyhood  laid  in  the  dust.  He  went  to 
the  woman,  laid  his  hands  on  her  head,  and  wept. 
The  other  warriors,  who  had  lost  their  kindred  and 
sons  in  the  war  with  the  Walkullas,  shouted  and 
lamented.  The  woman  also  wept. 

"Where  is  the  Young  Eagle?"  asked  the  Old 
Eagle  of  the  Head  Buffalo.  The  other  warriors,  in 
like  manner,  asked  for  their  kindred  who  had  been 
killed. 

"Fathers,  they  are  dead,"  answered  the  warrior. 
"  The  Head  Buffalo  has  said  they  are  dead,  and  he 
never  lies.  But  let  my  fathers  take  comfort.  Who 
can  live  for  ever  ?  The  foot  of  the  swift  step  and 
the  hand  of  the  stout  bow  become  feeble.  The  eye 
grows  dim,  and  the  heart  of  many  days  quails  at  the 
fierce  glance  of  warriors.  'Twas  better  they  should 
die  like  brave  men  in  their  youth  than  become  old 
men  and  faint." 

"  We  must  have  revenge,"  they  all  cried.  "  We 
will  not  listen  to  the  young  warrior  who  pines  for 
the  daughter  of  the  sun." 

Then  they  began  to  sing  a  mournful  song.  The 
strange  woman  wept.  Tears  rolled  down  her  cheeks, 
and  she  often  looked  up  to  the  house  of  the  Great 


PIQUA.  169 

Spirit  and  spoke,  but  none  could  understand  her. 
All  the  time  the  Old  Eagle  and  the  other  warriors 
begged  that  she  should  be  burned  to  revenge  them. 

''Brothers  and  warriors,"  said  Chenos,  "our  sons 
did  wrong  when  they  broke  in  upon  the  sacred 
dance  the  Walkullas  made  to  their  god,  and  he  lent 
his  thunder  to  the  strange  warriors.  Let  us  not 
draw  down  his  vengeance  further  by  doing  we  know 
not  what.  Let  the  beautiful  woman  remain  this 
night  in  the  wigwam  of  the  council,  covered  with 
skins,  and  let  none  disturb  her.  To-morrow  we  will 
offer  a  sacrifice  of  deer's  flesh  to  the  Great  Spirit, 
and  if  he  will  not  give  her  to  the  raging  fire  and  the 
torments  of  the  avengers,  he  will  tell  us  so  by  the 
words  of  his  mouth.  If  he  does  not  speak,  it  shall 
be  done  to  her  as  the  Old  Eagle  and  his  brothers 
have  said." 

The  head  chief  said — 

"  Chenos  has  spoken  well ;  wisdom  is  in  his  words. 
Make  for  the  strange  woman  a  soft  bed  of  skins, 
and  treat  her  kindly,  for  it  may  be  she  is  a  daughter 
of  the  Great  Spirit." 

Then  they  all  returned  to  their  cabins  and  slept, 
save  the  Head  Buffalo,  who,  fearing  for  the  woman's 
life,  laid  himself  down  at  the  door  of  the  lodge,  and 
watched. 

When  the  morning  came  the  warrior  went  to  the 
forest  and  killed  a  deer  which  he  brought  to  Chenos, 
who  prepared  it  for  a  sacrifice,  and  sang  a  song  while 
the  flesh  lay  on  the  fire. 

"  Let  us  listen,"  said  Chenos,  stopping  the  warriors 


170  INDIAN   FOLKLORE. 

in  their  dance.  "  Let  us  see  if  the  Great  Spirit  hears 
us." 

They  listened,  but  could  hear  nothing,  Chenos 
asked  him  why  he  did  not  speak,  but  he  did  not 
answer.  Then  they  sang  again. 

"  Hush  ! "  said  Chenos  listening.  "  I  hear  the  crow 
ing  of  the  Great  Turkey-cock.  I  hear  him  speaking." 

They  stopped,  and  Chenos  went  close  to  the  fire 
and  talked  with  his  master,  but  nobody  saw  with 
whom  he  talked. 

"What  does  the  Great  Spirit  tell  his  prophet  1" 
asked  the  head  chief. 

"He  says,"  answered  Chenos,  "the  young  woman 
must  not  be  offered  to  him.  He  wills  her  to  live 
and  become  the  mother  of  many  children." 

Many  were  pleased  that  she  was  to  live,  but  those 
who  had  lost  brothers  or  sons  were  not  appeased, 
and  they  said — 

"  We  will  have  blood.  We  will  go  to  the  priest 
of  the  Evil  Spirit,  and  ask  him  if  his  master  will  not 
give  us  revenge." 

Not  far  from  where  our  nation  had  their  council 
fire  was  a  great  hill,  covered  with  stunted  trees  and 
moss,  and  rugged  rocks.  There  was  a  great  cave  in 
it,  in  which  dwelt  Sketupah,  the  priest  of  the  Evil 
One,  who  there  did  worship  to  his  master.  Sketupah 
would  have  been  tall  had  he  been  straight,  but  he 
was  more  crooked  than  a  bent  bow.  His  hair  was 
like  a  bunch  of  grapes,  and  his  eyes  like  two  coals  of 
fire.  Many  were  the  gifts  our  nation  made  to  him 
to  gain  his  favour,  and  the  favour  of  his  master. 


PIQUA.  171 

Who  but  he  feasted  on  the  fattest  buffalo  hump  ? 
Who  but  he  fed  on  the  earliest  ear  of  milky  corn,  on 
the  best  things  that  grew  on  the  land  or  in  the  water  ? 

The  Old  Eagle  went  to  the  mouth  of  the  cave  and 
cried  with  a  loud  voice — 

"Sketupah!" 

"  Sketupah ! "  answered  the  hoarse  voice  of  the 
Evil  One  from  the  hollow  cave.  He  soon  came  and 
asked  the  Old  Eagle  what  he  wanted. 

"Revenge  for  our  sons  who  have  been  killed  by 
the  Walkullas  and  their  friends.  Will  your  master 
hear  us  *?" 

"My  master  must  have  a  sacrifice ;  he  must  smell 
blood,"  answered  Sketupah.  "  Then  we  shall  know  if 
he  will  give  revenge.  Bring  hither  a  sacrifice  in  the 
morning." 

So  in  the  morning  they  brought  a  sacrifice, 
and  the  priest  laid  it  on  the  fire  while  he  danced 
around.  He  ceased  singing  and  listened,  but  the 
Evil  Spirit  answered  not.  Just  as  he  was  going 
to  commence  another  song  the  warriors  saw  a  large 
ball  rolling  very  fast  up  the  hill  to  the  spot  where 
they  stood.  It  was  the  height  of  a  man.  When  it 
came  up  to  them  it  began  to  unwind  itself  slowly, 
until  at  last  a  little  strange-looking  man  crept  out 
of  the  ball,  which  was  made  of  his  own  hair.  He 
was  no  higher  than  one's  shoulders.  One  of  his 
feet  made  a  strange  track,  such  as  no  warrior  had 
ever  seen  before.  His  face  was  as  black  as  the  shell 
of  the  butter-nut  or  the  feathers  of  the  raven,  and 
his  eyes  as  green  as  grass.  His  hair  was  of  the  colour 


172  INDIAN   FOLKLORE. 

of  moss,  and  so  long  that,  as  the  wind  blew  it  out,  it 
seemed  the  tail  of  a  fiery  star. 

"  What  do  you  want  of  me  ? "  he  asked. 

The  priest  answered— 

"The  Shawanos  want  revenge.  They  want  to 
sacrifice  the  beautiful  daughter  of  the  sun,  whom  the 
Head  Buffalo  has  brought  from  the  camp  of  the 
Walkullas." 

"They  shall  have  their  wish,"  said  the  Evil  Spirit. 
"Go  and  fetch  her." 

Then  Old  Eagle  and  the  warriors  fetched  her. 
Head  Buffalo  would  have  fought  for  her,  but  Chenos 
commanded  him  to  be  still. 

"My  master,"  he  said,  "will  see  she  does  not 
suffer."  Then  they  fastened  her  to  the  stake.  The 
head  warrior  had  stood  still,  for  he  hoped  that  the 
priest  of  the  Great  Spirit  should  snatch  her  away 
from  the  Evil  One.  Now  he  shouted  his  war-cry 
and  rushed  upon  Sketupah.  It  was  in  vain. 
Sketupah's  master  did  but  breathe  upon  the  face  of 
the  warrior  when  he  fell  as  though  he  had  struck 
him  a  blow,  and  never  breathed  more.  Then  the 
Evil  One  commanded  them  to  seize  Chenos. 

"Come,  my  master,"  cried  Chenos,  "for  the 
hands  of  the  Evil  One  are  upon  me." 

As  soon  as  he  had  said  this,  very  far  over  the  tall 
hills,  which  Indians  call  the  Backbone  of  the  Great 
Spirit,  the  people  saw  two  great  lights,  brighter  and 
larger  than  stars,  moving  very  fast  towards  the  land 
of  the  Shawanos.  One  was  just  as  high  as  another, 
and  they  were  both  as  high  as  the  goat-sucker  flies 


PIQUA.  173 

before  a  thunderstorm.  At  first  they  were  close 
together,  but  as  they  came  nearer  they  grew  wider 
apart.  Soon  our  people  saw  that  they  were  two  eyes, 
and  in  a  little  while  the  body  of  a  great  man,  whose 
head  nearly  reached  the  sky,  came  after  them. 
Brothers,  the  eyes  of  the  Great  Spirit  always  go 
before  him,  and  nothing  is  hid  from  his  sight. 
Brothers,  I  cannot  describe  the  Master  of  Life  as  he 
stood  before  the  warriors  of  our  nation.  Can  you 
look  steadily  on  the  star  of  the  morning  1 

When  the  Evil  Spirit  saw  the  Spirit  of  Good  coming, 
he  began  to  grow  in  stature,  and  continued  swelling 
until  he  was  as  tall  and  big  as  he.  When  the  Spirit 
of  Good  came  near  and  saw  how  the  Evil  Spirit  had 
grown,  he  stopped,  and,  looking  angry,  said,  with  a 
voice  that  shook  the  hills — 

"  You  lied;  you  promised  to  stay  among  the  white 
people  and  the  nations  towards  the  rising  sun,  and 
not  trouble  my  people  more." 

"This  woman,"  replied  the  Evil  Spirit,  "comes 
from  my  country ;  she  is  mine." 

"She  is  mine,"  said  the  Great  Spirit.  "I  had 
given  her  for  a  wife  to  the  warrior  whom  you  have 
killed.  Tell  me  no  more  lies,  bad  manito,  lest  I 
punish  you.  Away,  and  see  you  trouble  my  people 
no  more." 

The  cowardly  spirit  made  no  answer,  but  shrank 
down  to  the  size  he  was  when  he  first  came.  Then 
he  began  as  before  to  roll  himself  up  in  his  hair, 
which  he  soon  did,  and  then  disappeared  as  he  came. 
When  he  was  gone,  the  Great  Spirit  shrank  till  he 


174  INDIAN   FOLKLORE. 

was  no  larger  than  a  Shawano,  and  began  talking 
to  our  people  in  a  soft  sweet  voice — 

"Men  of  the  Shawanos  nation,  I  love  you  and 
have  always  loved  you.  I  bade  you  conquer  your 
enemies;  I  gave  your  foes  into  your  hands.  I 
sent  herds  of  deer  and  many  bears  and  moose  to 
your  hunting-ground,  and  made  my  suns  shine  upon 
your  corn.  Who  lived  so  well,  who  fought  so 
bravely  as  the  Shawanos  ?  Whose  women  bore  so 
many  sons  as  yours  ? 

"Why  did  you  disturb  the  sacrifice  which  the 
Walkullas  were  offering  to  me  at  the  feast  of  green 
corn  ?  I  was  angry,  and  gave  your  warriors  into  the 
hands  of  their  enemies. 

"  Shawanos,  hear  my  words,  and  forget  them  not ; 
do  as  I  bid  you,  and  you  shall  see  my  power  and  my 
goodness.  Offer  no  further  violence  to  the  white 
maiden,  but  treat  her  kindly.  Go  now  and  rake  up 
the  ashes  of  the  sacrifice  fire  into  a  heap,  gathering 
up  the  brands.  When  the  great  star  of  evening 
rises,  open  the  ashes,  put  in  the  body  of  the  Head 
Buffalo,  lay  on  much  wood,  and  kindle  a  fire  on  it. 
Let  all  the  nation  be  called  together,  for  all  must 
assist  in  laying  wood  on  the  fire,  but  they  must  put 
on  no  pine,  nor  the  tree  which  bears  white  flowers, 
nor  the  grape-vine  which  yields  no  fruit,  nor  the  shrub 
whose  dew  blisters  the  flesh.  The  fire  must  be 
kept  burning  two  whole  moons.  It  must  not  go 
out ;  it  must  burn  night  and  day.  On  the  first  day 
of  the  third  moon  put  no  wood  on  the  fire,  but  let  it 
die.  On  the  morning  of  the  second  clay  the  Shawanos 


PIQUA.  175 

must  all  come  to  the  heap  of  ashes — every  man, 
woman,  and  child  must  come,  and  the  aged  who 
cannot  walk  must  be  helped  to  it.  Then  Chenos 
and  the  head  chief  must  bring  out  the  beautiful 
woman,  and  place  her  near  the  ashes.  This  is  the 
will  of  the  Great  Spirit." 

When  he  had  finished  these  words  he  began  to 
swell  until  he  had  reached  his  former  bulk  and 
stature.  Then  at  each  of  his  shoulders  came  out 
a  wing  of  the  colour  of  the  gold-headed  pigeon. 
Gently  shaking  these,  he  took  flight  from  the  land 
of  the  Shawanos,  and  was  never  seen  in  those  beauti 
ful  regions  again. 

The  Shawanos  did  as  he  bade  them.  They  raked 
the  ashes  together,  laid  the  body  of  Head  Buffalo  in 
them,  lighted  the  fire,  and  kept  it  burning  the 
appointed  time.  On  the  first  day  of  the  third  moon 
they  let  the  fire  out,  assembled  the  nation  around, 
and  placed  the  beautiful  woman  near  the  ashes. 
They  waited,  and  looked  to  see  what  would  happen. 
At  last  the  priests  and  warriors  who  were  nearest 
began  to  shout,  crying  out — 

"  Piqua !  "  which  in  the  Shawanos  tongue  means  a 
man  coming  out  of  the  ashes,  or  a  man  made  of 
ashes. 

They  told  no  lie.  There  he  stood,  a  man  tall  and 
straight  as  a  young  pine,  looking  like  a  Shawanos, 
but  handsomer  than  any  man  of  our  nation.  The 
first  thing  he  did  was  to  cry  the  war-whoop,  and 
demand  paint,  a  club,  a  bow  and  arrows,  and  a 
hatchet, — all  of  which  were  given  him.  Looking 


176  INDIAN  FOLKLORE. 

around  he  saw  the  white  woman,  and  he  walked  up 
to  her,  and  gazed  in  her  eyes.  Then  he  came  to  the 
head  chief  and  said — 

"I  must  have  that  woman  for  my  wife." 

"  What  are  you  ? "  asked  the  chief. 

"  A  man  of  ashes,"  he  replied. 

"  Who  made  you  1 " 

"The  Great  Spirit;  and  now  let  me  go,  that  I 
may  take  my  bow  and  arrows,  kill  my  deer,  and  come 
back  and  take  the  beautiful  maiden  for  my  wife." 

The  chief  asked  Chenos — 

"  Shall  he  have  her  ?  Does  the  Great  Spirit  give 
her  to  him?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  priest.  "  The  Great  Spirit  has 
willed  that  he  shall  have  her,  and  from  them  shall 
arise  a  tribe  to  be  called  Piqua." 

Brothers,  I  am  a  Piqua,  descended  from  the  man 
made  of  ashes.  If  I  have  told  you  a  lie,  blame  not 
me,  for  I  have  but  told  the  story  as  I  heard  it. 
Brothers,  I  have  done. 


THE  EVIL  MAKER, 

THE  Great  Spirit  made  man,  and  all  the  good  things 
in  the  world,  while  the  Evil  Spirit  was  asleep.  When 
the  Evil  Spirit  awoke  he  saw  an  Indian,  and,  wonder 
ing  at  his  appearance,  he  went  to  him  and  asked — 

"  Who  made  you  1 " 

"  The  Great  Spirit,"  replied  the  man. 

"  Oh,  oh,"  thought  the  Evil  Spirit,  "  if  he  can  make 
such  a  being  so  can  I." 

So  he  went  to  work,  and  tried  his  best  to  make  an 
Indian  like  the  man  he  saw,  but  he  made  some  mis 
take,  and  only  made  a  black  man.  When  he  saw 
that  he  had  failed  he  was  very  angry,  and  in  that 
state  was  walking  about  when  he  met  a  black  bear. 

"  Who  made  you  1 "  he  asked. 

"  The  Great  Spirit,"  answered  the  bear. 

"  Then,"  thought  the  Evil  Spirit,  "  I  will  make  a 
bear  too." 

To  work  he  went,  but  do  what  he  would  he  could 
not  make  a  black  bear,  but  only  a  grizzly  one,  unfit 
for  food.  More  disgusted  than  before,  he  was  walk 
ing  through  the  forest  when  he  found  a  beautiful 
serpent. 

Indian.  •»•• 


178  INDIAN  FOLKLORE. 

"  Who  made  you  ? "  he  asked. 

"The  Great  Spirit,"  replied  the  serpent. 

"  Then  I- will  make  some  like  you,"  said  the  Evil 
Maker. 

He  tried  his  best,  but  the  serpents  he  made  were 
all  noisome  and  poisonous,  and  he  saw  that  he  had 
failed  again. 

Then  it  occurred  to  him  that  he  might  make  some 
trees  and  flowers,  but  all  his  efforts  only  resulted  in 
his  producing  some  poor  deformed  trees  and  weeds. 

Then  he  said — 

"  It  is  true,  I  have  failed  in  making  things  like  the 
Great  Spirit,  but  I  can  at  least  spoil  what  he  has 
made." 

And  he  went  off  to  put  murder  and  lies  in  the 
hearts  of  men. 


MANABOZHO  THE  WOLF. 

MANABOZHO  set  out  to  travel.  He  wished  to  outdo 
all  others,  and  see  new  countries;  but  after  walking 
over  America,  and  encountering  many  adventures,  he 
became  satisfied  as  well  as  fatigued.  He  had  heard 
of  great  feats  in  hunting,  and  felt  a  desire  to  try  his 
power  in  that  way. 

One  evening,  as  he  was  walking  along  the  shores 
of  a  great  lake,  weary  arid  hungry,  he  encountered 
a  great  magician  in  the  form  of  an  old  wolf,  with  six 
young  ones,  coming  towards  him.  The  wolf,  as  soon 
as  he  saw  him,  told  his  whelps  to  keep  out  of  the 
way  of  Manabozho. 

"For  I  know,"  said  he,  "that  it  is  he  we  see 
yonder." 

The  young  wolves  were  in  the  act  of  running  off, 
when  Manabozho  cried  out — 

"  My  grandchildren,  where  are  you  going  1  Stop, 
and  I  will  go  with  you." 

He  appeared  rejoiced  to  see  the  old  wolf,  and 
asked  him  whither  he  was  journeying.  Being  told 
that  they  were  looking  out  for  a  place  where  they 
could  find  the  most  game,  and  best  pass  the  winter, 

179 


180  INDIAN   FOLKLORE. 

he  said  he  should  like  to  go  with  them,  and  addressed 
the  old  wolf  in  these  words — 

"Brother,  I  have  a  passion  for  the  chase.  Are 
you  willing  to  change  me  into  a  wolf  1 " 

The  old  wolf  was  agreeable,  and  Manabozho's 
transformation  was  effected. 

He  was  fond  of  novelty.  He  found  himself  a 
wolf  corresponding  in  size  with  the  others,  but  he 
was  not  quite  satisfied  with  the  change,  crying  out — 

"  Oh  !  make  me  a  little  larger." 

They  did  so. 

"  A  little  larger  still,"  he  cried. 

They  said— 

"  Let  us  humour  him,"  and  granted  his  request 

"Well,"  said  he,  "that  will  do."  Then  looking 
at  his  tail — 

"  Oh  !"  cried  he,  "  make  my  tail  a  little  longer  and 
more  bushy." 

They  made  it  so,  and  shortly  after  they  all  started 
off  in  company,  dashing  up  a  ravine.  After  getting 
into  the  woods  some  distance,  they  fell  in  with  the 
tracks  of  moose.  The  young  wolves  went  after  them, 
Manabozho  and  the  old  wolf  following  at  their 
leisure. 

"Well,"  said  the  wolf,  "who  do  you  think  is  the 
fastest  of  my  sons  ?  Can  you  tell  by  the  jumps 
they  take  1 " 

"Why,"  replied  he,  "that  one  that  takes  such 
long  jumps ;  he  is  the  fastest,  to  be  sure." 

"  Ha,  ha !  You  are  mistaken,"  said  the  old  wolf. 
"  He  makes  a  good  start,  but  he  will  be  the  first  to 


MANABOZHO   THE  WOLF.  181 

tire  out.  This  one  who  appears  to  be  behind  will 
be  the  first  to  kill  the  game." 

Soon  after  they  came  to  the  place  where  the 
young  ones  had  killed  the  game.  One  of  them  had 
dropped  his  bundle  there. 

"Take  that,  Manabozho,"  said  the  old  wolf. 

"Esa,"he  replied,  "what  will  I  do  with  a  dirty 
dog-skin  ? " 

The  wolf  took  it  up  ;  it  was  a  beautiful  robe. 

"  Oh  !  I  will  carry  it  now,"  said  Manabozho. 

"Oh  no,"  replied  the  wolf,  who  at  the  moment 
exerted  his  magic  power.  "It  is  a  robe  of  pearls." 

From  that  moment  he  lost  no  opportunity  of  dis 
playing  his  superiority,  both  in  the  hunter's  and 
magician's  art,  over  his  conceited  companion. 

Coming  to  a  place  where  the  moose  had  lain  down, 
they  saw  that  the  young  wolves  had  made  a  fresh 
start  after  their  prey. 

"Why,"  said  the  wolf,  "this  moose  is  poor.  I 
know  by  the  tracks,  for  I  can  always  tell  whether 
they  are  fat  or  not." 

They  next  came  to  a  place  where  one  of  the 
wolves  had  tried  to  bite  the  moose,  and,  failing,  had 
broken  one  of  his  teeth  on  a  tree. 

"Manabozho,"  said  the  wolf,  "one  of  your  grand 
children  has  shot  at  the  game.  Take  his  arrow. 
There  it  is." 

"No,"  replied  he,  "what  will  I  do  with  a  dirty 
tooth  1 " 

The  old  wolf  took  it  up,  and,  behold !  it  was  a 
beautiful  silver  arrow. 


182  INDIAN    FOLKLORE. 

When  they  overtook  the  young  ones,  they  found 
they  had  killed  a  very  fat  moose.  Manabozho  was 
very  hungry,  but,  such  is  the  power  of  enchantment, 
he  saw  nothing  but  bones,  picked  quite  clean.  He 
thought  to  himself — 

"  Just  as  I  expected.     Dirty,  greedy  fellows  ! " 

However,  he  sat  down  without  saying  a  word,  and 
the  old  wolf  said  to  one  of  the  young  ones — 

"Give  some  meat  to  your  grandfather." 

The  wolf,  coming  near  to  Manabozho,  opened  his 
mouth  wide  as  if  he  had  eaten  too  much,  whereupon 
Manabozho  jumped  up,  saying — 

"  You  filthy  dog,  you  have  eaten  so  much  that 
you  are  ill.  Get  away  to  some  other  place." 

The  old  wolf,  hearing  these  words,  came  to  Mana 
bozho,  and,  behold  !  before  him  was  a  heap  of  fresh 
ruddy  meat  with  the  fat  lying  all  ready  prepared. 
Then  Manabozho  put  on  a  smiling  face. 

"  Amazement !  "  cried  he,  "  how  fine  the  meat  is  !  " 

"Yes,"  replied  the  wolf;  "it  is  always  so  with 
us.  We  know  our  work,  and  always  get  the  best. 
It  is  not  a  long  tail  that  makes  a  hunter." 

Manabozho  bit  his  lip. 

They  then  commenced  fixing  their  winter  quarters, 
while  the  young  ones  went  out  in  search  of  game,  of 
which  they  soon  brought  in  a  large  supply.  One  day, 
during  the  absence  of  the  young  wolves,  the  old  one 
amused  himself  by  cracking  the  large  bones  of  a  moose. 

"  Manabozho,"  said  he,  "  cover  your  head  with  the 
robe,  and  do  not  look  at  me  while  I  am  at  these 
bones,  for  a  piece  may  fly  in  your  eye." 


MANABOZHO   THE  WOLF.  183 

Manabozho  covered  his  head,  but,  looking  through 
a  rent  in  the  robe,  he  saw  all  the  other  was  about. 
At  that  moment  a  piece  of  bone  flew  off  and  hit  him 
in  the  eye.  He  cried  out — 

"  Tyau  !     Why  do  you  strike  me,  you  old  dog  ! '; 

The  wolf  said — 

"  You  must  have  been  looking  at  me." 

"  No,  no,"  replied  Manabozho ;  "  why  should  I 
want  to  look  at  you  ?" 

"Manabozho,"  said  the  wolf,  "  you  must  have  been 
looking,  or  you  would  not  have  got  hurt." 

"  No,  no,"  said  Manabozho ;  and  he  thought  to 
himself,  "I  will  repay  the  saucy  wolf  for  this." 

Next  day,  taking  up  a  bone  to  obtain  the  marrow, 
he  said  to  the  old  wolf — 

"Cover  your  head,  and  don't  look  at  me,  for  I 
fear  a  piece  may  fly  in  your  eye." 

The  wolf  did  so.  Then  Manabozho  took  the 
leg-bone  of  the  moose,  and,  looking  first  to  see  if 
the  old  wolf  was  well  covered,  he  hit  him  a  blow 
with  all  his  might.  The  wolf  jumped  up,  and  cried 
out — 

"Why  do  you  strike  me  so  ?" 

"Strike  you?"  exclaimed  Manabozho.  "I  did 
not  strike  you  ! " 

"  You  did,"  said  the  wolf. 

"  How  can  you  say  I  did,  when  you  did  not  see  me. 
Were  you  looking  V  said  Manabozho. 

He  was  an  expert  hunter  when  he  undertook  the 
work  in  earnest,  and  one  day  he  went  out  and  killed 
a  fat  moose.  He  was  very  hungry,  and  sat  down  to. 


184  INDIAN   FOLKLORE. 

eat,  but  fell  into  great  doubts  as  to  the  proper  point 
in  the  carcass  to  begin  at. 

"Well,"  said  he,  "I  don't  know  where  to  com 
mence.  At  the  head  1  No.  People  would  laugh, 
and  say,  '  He  ate  him  backward  !'" 

Then  he  went  to  the  side. 

"No,"  said  he,  "they  will  say  I  ate  him  sideways." 

He  then  went  to  the  hind-quarter. 

"  No,"  said  he,  "  they  will  say  I  ate  him  forward." 

At  last,  however,  seeing  that  he  must  begin  the 
attack  somewhere,  he  commenced  upon  the  hind- 
quarter.  He  had  just  got  a  delicate  piece  in  his 
mouth  when  the  tree  just  by  began  to  make  a  creak 
ing  noise,  rubbing  one  large  branch  against  another. 
This  annoyed  him. 

"  Why  !"  he  exclaimed,  "  I  cannot  eat  when  I  hear 
such  a  noise.  Stop,  stop  ! "  cried  he  to  the  tree. 

He  was  again  going  on  with  his  meal  when  the 
noise  was  repeated. 

"  I  cannot  eat  with  such  a  noise,"  said  he ;  and, 
leaving  the  meal,  although  he  was  very  hungry,  he 
went  to  put  a  stop  to  the  noise.  He  climbed  the 
tree,  and  having  found  the  branches  which  caused 
the  disturbance,  tried  to  push  them  apart,  when  they 
suddenly  caught  him  between  them,  so  that  he  was 
held  fast.  While  he  was  in  this  position  a  pack  of 
wolves  came  near. 

"  Go  that  way,"  cried  Manabozho,  anxious  to  send 
them  away  from  the  neighbourhood  of  his  meat. 
"  Go  that  way ;  what  would  you  come  to  get  here  f ' 

The  wolves  talked  among   themselves,  and  said 


MANABOZHO   THE   WOLF.  185 

"Manabozho  wants  to  get  us  out  of  the  way.  He 
must  have  something  good  here." 

"I  begin  to  know  him  and  all  his  tricks,"  said  an 
old  wolf.  "  Let  us  see  if  there  is  anything." 

They  accordingly  began  to  search,  and  very  soon 
finding  the  moose  made  away  with  the  whole  carcass. 
Manabozho  looked  on  wistfully,  and  saw  them  eat 
till  they  were  satisfied,  when  they  left  him  nothing 
but  bare  bones.  Soon  after  a  blast  of  wind  opened 
the  branches  and  set  him  free.  He  went  home, 
thinking  to  himself — 

"  See  the  effect  of  meddling  with  frivolous  things 
when  certain  good  is  in  one's  possession  !" 


THE  MAN-FISH. 

A  VERY  great  while  ago  the  ancestors  of  the 
Shawanos  nation  lived  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Great  Lake,  half-way  between  the  rising  sun  and  the 
evening  star.  It  was  a  land  of  deep  snows  and 
much  frost,  of  winds  which  whistled  in  the  clear, 
cold  nights,  and  storms  which  travelled  from  seas  no 
eyes  could  reach.  Sometimes  the  sun  ceased  to  shine 
for  moons  together,  and  then  he  was  continually 
before  their  eyes  for  as  many  more.  In  the  season 
of  cold  the  waters  were  all  locked  up,  and  the  snows 
overtopped  the  ridge  of  the  cabins.  Then  he  shone 
out  so  fiercely  that  men  fell  stricken  by  his  fierce 
rays,  and  were  numbered  with  the  snow  that  had 
melted  and  run  to  the  embrace  of  the  rivers.  It 
was  not  like  the  beautiful  lands — the  lands  blessed 
with  soft  suns  and  ever-green  vales — in  which  the 
Shawanos  now  dwell,  yet  it  was  well  stocked  with 
deer,  and  the  waters  with  fat  seals  and  great  fish, 
which  were  caught  just  when  the  people  pleased  to 
go  after  them.  Still,  the  nation  were  discontented, 
and  wished  to  leave  their  barren  and  inhospitable 
shores.  The  priests  had  told  them  of  a  beautiful 

186 


THE  MAN-FISH.  187 

world  beyond  the  Great  Salt  Lake,  from  which  the 
glorious  sun  never  disappeared  for  a  longer  time 
than  the  duration  of  a  child's  sleep,  where  snow- 
shoes  were  never  wanted — a  land  clothed  with 
perpetual  verdure,  and  bright  with  never  failing 
gladness.  The  Shawanos  listened  to  these  tales  till 
they  came  to  loathe  their  own  simple  comforts ;  all 
they  talked  of,  all  they  appeared  to  think  of,  was 
the  land  of  the  happy  hunting-grounds. 

Once  upon  a  time  the  people  were  much  terrified 
at  seeing  a  strange  creature,  much  resembling  a 
man,  riding  along  the  waves  of  the  lake  on  the 
borders  of  which  they  dwelt.  He  had  on  his  head 
long  green  hair ;  his  face  was  shaped  like  that  of  a 
porpoise,  and  he  had  a  beard  of  the  colour  of  ooze. 

If  the  people  were  frightened  at  seeing  a  man  who 
could  live  in  the  water  like  a  fish  or  a  duck,  how 
much  more  were  they  frightened  when  they  saw 
that  from  his  breast  down  he  was  actually  fish,  or 
rather  two  fishes,  for  each  of  his  legs  was  a  whole 
and  distinct  fish.  When  they  heard  him  speak  dis 
tinctly  in  their  own  language,  and  when  he  sang 
songs  sweeter  than  the  music  of  birds  in  spring,  or 
the  whispers  of  love  from  the  lips  of  a  beautiful 
maiden,  they  thought  it  a  being  from  the  Land  of 
Shades — a  spirit  from  the  happy  fishing-grounds 
beyond  the  lake  of  storms, 

He  would  sit  for  a  long  time,  his  fish-legs  coiled 
up  under  him,  singing  to  the  wondering  ears  of  the 
Indians  upon  the  shore  the  pleasures  he  experienced, 
and  the  beautiful  and  strange  things  he  saw  in  the 


188  INDIAN   FOLKLORE. 

depths  of  the  ocean,  always  closing  his  strange 
stories  with  these  words,  shouted  at  the  top  of  his 
voice — 

"  Follow  me,  and  see  what  I  will  show  you." 
Every  day,  when  the  waves  were  still  and  the 
winds  had  gone  to  their  resting-place  in  the  depths 
of  the  earth,  the  monster  was  sure  to  be  seen  near 
the  shore  where  the  Shawanos  dwelt.  For  a  great 
many  suns  they  dared  not  venture  upon  the  water 
in  quest  of  food,  doing  nothing  but  wander  along 
the  beach,  watching  the  strange  creature  as  he 
played  his  antics  upon  the  surface  of  the  waves, 
listening  to  his  songs  and  to  his  invitation — 
"Follow  me,  and  see  what  I  will  show  you." 
The  longer  he  stayed  the  less  they  feared  him. 
They  became  used  to  him,  and  in  time  looked  upon 
him  as  a  spirit  who  was  not  made  for  harm,  nor 
wished  to  injure  the  poor  Indian.  Then  they  grew 
hungry,  and  their  wives  and  little  ones  cried  for 
food,  and,  as  hunger  banishes  all  fear,  in  a  few  days 
three  canoes  with  many  men  and  warriors  ventured 
off  to  the  rocks  in  quest  of  fish. 

When  they  reached  the  fishing-place,  they  heard 
as  before  the  voice  shouting — 

"  Follow  me,  and  see  what  I  will  show  you." 
Presently  the  man-fish  appeared,  sitting  on  the 
water,  with  his  legs  folded  under  him,  and  his  arms 
crossed  on  his  breast,  as  they  had  usually  seen  him. 
There  he  sat,  eying  them  attentively.  When  they 
failed  to  draw  in  the  fish  they  had  hooked,  he  would 
make  the  water  shake  and  the  deep  echo  with  shouts 


THE  MAN -FISH.  189 

of  laughter,  and  would  clap  his  hands  with  great 
noise,  and  cry — 

"  Ha,  ha !  there  he  fooled  you." 

When  a  fish  was  caught  he  was  very  angry. 
When  the  fishers  had  tried  long  and  patiently,  and 
taken  little,  and  the  sun  was  just  hiding  itself 
behind  the  dark  clouds  which  skirted  the  region 
of  warm  winds,  the  strange  creature  cried  out  still 
stronger  than  before — 

"Follow  me,  and  see  what  I  will  show  you." 

Kiskapocoke,  who  was  the  head  man  of  the  tribe, 
asked  him  what  he  wanted,  but  he  would  make  no 
other  answer  than — 

" Follow  me." 

"  Do  you  think,"  said  Kiskapocoke,  "  I  would  be 
such  a  fool  as  to  go  I  don't  know  with  whom,  and  I 
don't  know  where  1 " 

"See  what  I  will  show  you,"  cried  the  man-fish. 

"  Can  you  show  us  anything  better  than  we  have 
yonder  ?  "  asked  the  warrior. 

"I  will  show  you,"  replied  the  monster,  "a  land 
where  there  is  a  herd  of  deer  for  every  one  that 
skips  over  your  hills,  where  there  are  vast  droves  of 
creatures  larger  than  your  sea-elephants,  where  there 
is  no  cold  to  freeze  you,  where  the  sun  is  always  soft 
and  smiling,  where  the  trees  are  always  in  bloom." 

The  people  began  to  be  terrified,  and  wished 
themselves  on  land,  but  the  moment  they  tried  to 
paddle  towards  the  shore,  some  invisible  hand  would 
seize  their  canoes  and  draw  them  back,  so  that  an 
hour's  labour  did  not  enable  them  to  gain  the  length 


190  INDIAN   FOLKLORE. 

of  their  boat  in  the  direction  of  their  homes.  At 
last  Kiskapocoke  said  to  his  companions — 

"  What  shall  we  do  1 " 

"Follow  me,"  said  the  fish. 

Then  Kiskapocoke  said  to  his  companions — 

"  Let  us  follow  him,  and  see  what  will  come  of  it." 

So  they  followed  him, — he  swimming  and  they 
paddling,  until  night  came.  Then  a  great  wind  and 
deep  darkness  prevailed,  and  the  Great  Serpent 
commenced  hissing  in  the  depths  of  the  ocean.  The 
people  were  terribly  frightened,  and  did  not  think 
to  live  till  another  sun,  but  the  man-fish  kept  close  to 
the  boats,  and  bade  them  not  be  afraid,  for  nothing 
should  hurt  them. 

When  morning  came,  nothing  could  be  seen  of  the 
shore  they  had  left.  The  winds  still  raged,  the  seas 
were  very  high,  and  the  waters  ran  into  their  canoes 
like  melted  snows  over  the  brows  of  the  mountains, 
but  the  man-fish  handed  them  large  shells,  with 
which  they  baled  the  water  out.  As-  they  had 
brought  neither  food  nor  water  with  them,  they  had  be 
come  both  hungry  and  thirsty.  Kiskapocoke  told  the 
strange  creature  they  wanted  to  eat  and  drink,  and 
that  he  must  supply  them  with  what  they  required. 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  man-fish,  and,  disappearing 
in  the  depths  of  the  water,  he  soon  reappeared, 
bringing  with  him  a  bag  of  parched  corn  and  a  shell 
full  of  sweet  water. 

For  two  moons  and  a  half  the  fishermen  followed 
the  man-fish,  till  at  last  one  morning  their  guide 
exclaimed — 


THE  MAN-FISH.  191 

"  Look  there  ! " 

Upon  that  they  looked  in  the  direction  he  pointed 
out  to  them  and  saw  land,  high  land,  covered 
with  great  trees,  and  glittering  as  the  sand  of  the 
Spirit's  Island.  Behind  the  shore  rose  tall  moun 
tains,,  from  the  tops  of  which  issued  great  flames, 
which  shot  up  into  the  sky,  as  the  forks  of  the  light 
ning  cleave  the  clouds  in  the  hot  moon.  The  waters 
of  the  Great  Salt  Lake  broke  in  small  waves  upon 
its  shores,  which  were  covered  with  sporting  seals 
and  wild  ducks  pluming  themselves  in  the  beams  of 
the  warm  and  gentle  sun.  Upon  the  shore  stood  a 
great  many  strange  people,  but  when  they  saw  the 
strangers  step  upon  the  land  and  the  man-fish,  they 
fled  to  the  woods  like  startled  deer,  and  were  no 
more  seen. 

When  the  warriors  were  safely  landed,  the  man- 
fish  told  them  to  let  the  canoe  go ;  "  for,"  said  he, 
"  you  will  never  need  it  more."  They  had  travelled 
but  a  little  way  into  the  woods  when  he  bade  them 
stay  where  they  were,  while  he  told  the  spirit  of  the 
land  that  the  strangers  he  had  promised  were  come, 
and  with  that  he  descended  into  a  deep  cave  near  at 
hand.  He  soon  returned,  accompanied  by  a  creature 
as  strange  in  appearance  as  himself.  His  legs  and 
feet  were  those  of  a  man.  He  had  leggings  and 
moccasins  like  an  Indian's,  tightly  laced  and  beauti 
fully  decorated  with  wampum,  but  his  head  was  like 
a  goat's.  He  talked  like  a  man,  and  his  language 
was  one  well  understood  by  the  strangers. 

"  I  will  lead  you,"  he  said,  "  to  a  beautiful  land, 


192  INDIAN  FOLKLORE. 

to  a  most  beautiful  land,  men  from  the  clime  of 
snows.  There  you  will  find  all  the  joys  an  Indian 
covets." 

For  many  moons  the  Shawanos  travelled  under 
the  guidance  of  the  man-goat,  into  whose  hands  the 
man-fish  had  put  them,  when  he  retraced  his  steps  to 
the  Great  Lake.  They  came  at  length  to  the  land 
which  the  Shawanos  now  occupy.  They  found  it  as 
the  strange  spirits  had  described  it.  They  married 
the  daughters  of  the  land,  and  their  numbers  in 
creased  till  they  were  so  many  that  no  one  could 
count  them.  They  grew  strong,  swift,  and  valiant 
in  war,  keen  and  patient  in  the  chase.  They  over 
came  all  the  tribes  eastward  of  the  River  of  Rivers, 
and  south  to  the  shore  of  the  Great  Lake. 


Printed  by  T.  and  A.  CONSTABLE,  Printers  to  Her  Majesty, 
at  the  Edinburgh  University  Press. 


U.C.BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 


